Valor
by Championship Vinyl
Summary: Esposito's past is behind him...or so he thinks. But when an innocent visit home becomes a web of lies and murder, will his past destroy his present and future? MULTICHAPTER. Strong Esplanie. Read, review, and get ready for the ride...
1. Rising

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**So! Welcome, fanfic readers, to another ongoing, multi-chapter event of story-arcing proportions. ;) This story is decidedly Javier-centric. He's my favorite character, and I feel that there's a LOT to be said about his backstory, and a lot of avenues about him that haven't been explored. Since Mr. Andrew Marlowe isn't getting around to it so much, **_**I've**_** decided to have a go. **

**The main focus will be Javier himself (that's why it's listed as such), but it will also include healthy, heaping doses of Esplanie (since, come on, we all know I'm a fangirl). XD They're 'in it' together. And, I feel the need to say this: **_**This story is in a universe all to itself. It does not fit into the timelines of any of my other stories, nor do I consider it to follow canon, due to the number of OCs. **_**I've pretty much created Javier's family here, and decided where he grew up, so if Mr. Marlowe wants to prove me wrong later, let him go ahead. That's what fanfiction is all about, after all: creative liberty. ;)**

**Aside from Esplanie et al, this story will also include bits of Beckett, possibly others, AND each chapter will begin with an 'excerpt' from a 'Derrick Storm' novel. Bam, said the lady. **

**Anyway. Needless to say, I don't own Castle or any of its characters. (I DO own the concepts for the Esposito family and any other/villainy OCs I feel the need to use. Note: if any of them look familiar, it's just because they also appear on my Castle RPG board. I'm not an idea thief; they were my idea in the first place.) xD**

**So read on, and let the adventure begin…**

_**~For Travis, one of the good guys. Love you, friend. 1993-2011~**_

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_Once upon a time, there was a hero. It was never something he called himself, nor did the people who knew him, in words at least. But from as early on as the sun rises, they had to have known. And they did, with every constant reminder of where else they might have been. Once upon a time, words didn't matter. Only light in the dark. _

-Richard Castle, '_Storm Rising_'

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"I _told_ you, Demarco, I don't know what you want with me. I don't have what you want."

"You're lyin' to me, _Ja-vi-er_." He tutted his threat with acid dripping from every syllable, as much of an insult behind them as if he'd outright called him '_boy_.' Only in this place could your past so quickly strip you of what you'd gained. Higher ground; dignity. Taking his pause, he leaned down toward the kneeling man's ear. "I got time," he whispered, through the grin of a snake. "It's _you_ who don't."

Javier didn't flinch, he didn't waver, and he didn't reply. He stared him down, every muscle in his neck held tense, jaw set, eyes hard and narrow. Then a blow struck the back of his head, and his world went dark.

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_~Three days earlier_~

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"So."

Dr. Lanie Parish, M.E, knew she shouldn't have been all that surprised to see this detective in particular show up out of thin air beside her exam table, let alone carrying a pastry bag in one hand and a vanilla chai tea in the other. He was spontaneous like that, which was part of why she'd been dating him for several months now, and part of why a smile came to her face, accepting the offerings. "Go on."

"I was thinkin'. I'm goin' back home this weekend to see my ma and them. You should come with me."

Well. Talk about some of that famous spontaneity. Lanie tried to access what _she_ was famous for - words - but it took a moment or two before any came. "I…'them,' as in, your whole family?" she blinked.

Esposito shrugged one shoulder, folding his arms as he leaned the other against the cabinet. "Yeah. I mean, not _every_ single person I'm related to, I'd spare you _that_, but… Nah, just my ma, dad, sisters. They've heard a lot about you. They'll wanna meet you."

"And…you're sure about this?"

If he was registering that it was a big step, then he'd obviously done some thinking about it, because Javier only grinned. "Relax, _cariño_, they don't bite. Hell, I don't think my dad's said a sentence more'n he had to since 1997. They'll love you."

Huh. Was _that_ ever some new information to process. Lanie took a minute to do just that, and once she had, she felt herself start to grin the same way. "Yeah? …Yeah, okay. I'd be onboard with that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"All right then." The detective took a step closer. "It's settled." He raised his hands to rest on her arms, and unconsciously echoed her soft smile with one of his own as his forehead touched hers. "I'll pick you up tomorrow afternoon, we'll drive in together."

"Sounds good." She laced her hands together behind his neck, swaying slightly from one foot to the other, side to side. "Meeting your family, huh? I'm not walkin' into a trap, am I?" she teased.

Javier laughed, and Lanie chewed her lip to keep from joining him, fruitless as it was. "I believe my ma actually threatened to cut me out of the photo albums if I didn't bring you around. If it's a trap, the worst they got is interrogation. And _I_ got all the good genes on that one."

"That you certainly did," Lanie hummed, then raised a mock-scolding eyebrow. "Those better have been all _good_ things they've heard about me."

"Oh, _glowing_ review," Javier promised, his last before the gap was gone and his lips met hers. Lanie's eyes fell shut and she savored the moment, almost as much as the revelation that he'd been talking about her; that he wanted her to go with him. It was the kind of step she'd deny ever having wanted out loud, but as long as she kept the excitement in her head - and, all right, the butterfly-y thing in her stomach - then nobody had to know. Hey, she was allowed that much, right? Okay then. Off her back, please.

He took his time pulling away, hands lingering on her arms as his eyes flicked a protective once-over, coming back to meet hers. "You good here?"

Lanie sighed and cast a weary look at all the categorizing she still had to do, and reluctantly detangled from him, knowing it had to be done eventually. "Yeah. Perlmutter and Henson are both out with the stomach flu, so that leaves a lotta bagging and tagging for me to do. I'll get through it."

"You want help?"

The good doctor answered his thoughtfulness with a playful eye. "Solve this damn case and it'll be all the help in the world," she returned.

He grinned again as he stepped away. "Your call. I'll do my best."

"Beckett got you out on assignment?"

"Mmhm. Headin' uptown now with the crime scene photos to show to the manager, then I gotta go pick up the sister-in-law."

"Mm, she didn't do it," Lanie estimated.

"Medical proof or guess and a wager?"

"The second one."

"Twenty bucks?"

"I'd take dinner instead," she flirted.

"_Chica_, you win this one, and I'll raise you dinner and a show." Esposito stopped halfway through the door, leaning on the handle to smirk at her. "Thanks for the yes."

"Thanks for the pick-me-up," she breezed back. As he left, Lanie smiled to herself, reflecting for all its cheesy worth that she might not've just been talking about the bear claw. Though that was a perk too. _Lord help me_. With a chuckle, she slid an evidence stack aside and dug into the bag. Her sorting could wait another five minutes.

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"Wow. Meeting his family, huh?" The smirk that graced Kate Beckett's face was familiarly mischievous. "I didn't know the two of you were that serious."

Lanie shuffled the hangers in her closet, pulling out three more, then returning one and crossing to the mirror. "News to me." Well, that was kind of a lie. To be honest, Lanie was totally aware of - and comfortable with - the state of hers and Javier's relationship. She just hadn't thought of this stuff yet. But she knew where Kate was going, all right, and 'downplay' was the word to deal with that. Besides, there were other matters here. Lanie held up two of the hangers, a subtly sparkly dress on each. "Which one doesn't scream 'ten cents a lap dance,'" she asked flatly.

Kate raised an eyebrow. "Am I supposed to answer that?"

Tossing her friend a flat look, the M.E. put both down and picked up the most conservative dress she owned. It had a collar. "Sometimes I forget why I like you."

"Happy to remind you of that," Kate snarked back, looking both amused and satisfied with herself. She uncrossed her legs and flopped onto her stomach, hugging one of Lanie's throw pillows at the foot of the bed. "So you guys are going to be staying there the whole weekend?"

"No; I actually asked your help packing for my _health_."

"Well, you never know, you could just be calling in a favor. You're better at this than I am."

"Not today, and I _am_ calling in a favor, which is why I'm asking you, grey or purple."

"Purple. And take the scarf, your blue one. It'll go with the shoes."

"_Thank_ you," Lanie pronounced, and immediately rummaged through her second drawer for the scarf in question.

Kate observed her for a minute in silence. One corner of her mouth quirked slowly upward. "You _really_ want to make a good impression, don't you."

Lanie barely turned, glancing at Kate over her shoulder, light voice betraying the heat that fled to her cheeks. "…I have no idea what you're talkin' about."

"Lanie." The detective sat up again, swinging her legs around to introduce her feet to carpet. "What is it you're always telling me? 'Just because _you_ don't see it doesn't mean everyone _else_ doesn't see it?' It's _obvious_."

"You get paid to detect. I highly doubt that's fair."

"_Look_ at you! You're obsessing over what to wear, which you _never _do, because you want his family to like you." Beckett's smiling face came up beside her friend's in the mirror, and the former plucked a grey skirt from the scowling woman's hand, swapping it for a beige one.

"Now _hold_ on - "

"Hold on nothing. I happen to think it's…adorably sweet."

"Call me 'adorable' again and the only thing you'll be 'sweet' on is Morphine," the M.E. sassed, giving the cop an eyebrow with a reputation of its own.

Kate's retreat was only mild at best, with her 'resigned' face reading more like '_Okay, sure_,' but she retreated nonetheless, giving a brief, knowing touch to her friend's arm. "I'm happy for you guys. Both of you; I really am."

"Oh, you _are_, huh?"

"Of course I am. You guys are practically family."

"Mm-hm." With a wily look, Lanie swirled away, hanger in hand. "Well I'm happy you're happy I'm happy. Now that everybody's clear on where we all stand, can we get back to work and maybe finish this before I get old?"

"Gee, why not," Kate teased, giving a good-natured roll of her eyes. But just as she returned to Lanie's overnight bag to sift through the items for inspection, her attention was called over her shoulder.

"Hey, Beckett?"

The brunette turned, eyes meeting her friend's. "Yeah?"

"Thanks for not saying 'I told you so.' I would've hated to have to hurt you." And she gave a grin, one that Kate gave back.

"Yeah, well. I'm saving it up for later."

She couldn't decide whether to laugh or scowl when a throw pillow thunked the back of her head.

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"So you're really takin' Lanie to meet your family?"

Ryan cast a glance both ways before he stepped off the curb, unwrapping the Chicago-style hot dog he'd just bought for himself. He and Esposito were hoofing it back to the car after a follow-up questioning, and the closest parking spot had been four blocks away - maybe not the best time to ask for extra ketchup.

Esposito had smartly taken a pass on the snackage. His brow furrowed. "Yeah, why not?"

"No, nothin', it's good. Just surprised. You guys've only been goin' out for a few months, right?"

"Longer'n _that_." Wasn't it? Besides, it wasn't like relationships had a standard itinerary. _First base on Date One, Third on Date Four, Meet the Family on Week Thirteen, the 'Where Are We Going' talk on Week Forty-Two_, Esposito imagined. He stepped onto the sidewalk with the rest of foot traffic just as the light changed and the crosswalk filled with cars, Ryan right beside him. "How long before you let Jenny meet yours?"

He knew for a fact it'd been three weeks. "'Kay, so maybe you've got a point," Kevin relented. "Anyway, I - ah, damn it. You got a napkin?"

Sighing dramatically, Javier handed over a stack of three that he'd taken from the hot dog stand. When your partner was Ryan, you learned to pre-think any situation that could involve him condiment-splattering himself.

"Thanks." The Irish detective took all three and stuck two in his pocket, using a corner of the third to blot at a ketchup stain on his tie. "Anyway, I think it's a good idea. You're right, it's been long enough. She should. Y'know, if you're serious about it."

Javier flipped a shoulder. "True."

There was a pause, they walked opposite ways around a spilled ice-cream cone, and Kevin gave his partner a look of concern, suspicion, one eyebrow raised precariously. "…You _are_ serious, right?"

"'Bout what?" _Hey, if he's asking, he deserves it. _

"Dude, _Lanie_. You screw around and Beckett's gonna kill you before even the _Doc_ gets a chance. Like, evisceration. And you know she'll find a way to do it slowly."

"Re-_lax_, I'm serious enough." They passed a music shop, then an organic street-market, and the side-reflection in the windows told him when Ryan relaxed, nodded, aimed another bite of hot dog. "I'm the one who's voluntarily exposing her to people I'm related to. That should say plenty just by itself."

"Yeah, it's sayin' plenty to _you_, but what's it sayin' to _her_?"

"She was onboard with it," Javier relayed. "Actually, first off she reacted kinda like you."

"Walked into traffic?" Kevin smirked.

"She was _surprised_. But, then she really seemed to be into the idea. I think she's excited."

They joined another knot of pedestrians waiting for the '_Walk_' signal. "Yeah? Well good for you guys."

"Thanks."

"You tell her what she was walkin' into?"

"I told her it wasn't gonna be an interrogation, if that's what you mean."

Ryan swallowed his bite of hot dog and snickered. "Oh, man, you totally just lied to the one woman who can kill you without leaving evidence."

"Psh. What?"

"You heard me bro. I've met your mom. She interrogated _me_ for God's sake and I'm not even sleeping with you."

"Yeah, well, it's not gonna happen like that." Esposito gave a decisive nod as if that was the last word on the subject.

"You know how it's normal for cops to dream about getting shot sometimes? Mine always have your mom in my hospital room when I wake up, standing over me with a hatchet."

His brow rumpled. "Dude, why would my mom be waving a hatchet at you when you just got shot?"

"'Cause so did you."

"Dead?"

"Eh." Kevin paused to catch a scrap of relish in his mouth before it plummeted toward the sidewalk, napkin waiting at his chin. "It varies actually."

_Huh_. Javier pondered that a second, and then he shook his head. "Well, whatever. It shouldn't be that bad."

"I'm not sayin' it'll be _bad_, I'm just trying to figure out if you're brave or crazy."

_Both, more'n likely. _"Which one were _you_?" Esposito retorted.

"Dude, your family makes mine look sane."

"Oh yeah? What about that uncle of yours? The one with the fake handicap sticker on his car? And the…birdhouses?"

"…Okay, bad example."

"'Sides, it won't just be all the focus on Lanie. The girls are all comin' back to spend the weekend. With any luck Ma's attention's gonna be goin' in ten different directions the whole time."

Passing a trash can, Ryan balled up his hot dog wrapper and chucked it in under the grate, wiping his hands and mouth off with a new napkin. "And, you think your sisters aren't gonna wanna play twenty questions. _Your_ sisters," he emphasized. "Are you _really_ sure you're not smoking anything?"

"Man, what's with you?" They reached the car, and Javier stopped outside the driver's side door, giving his partner a confused-as-hell look. "One minute you're sayin' how great it is and the next you're tryin' to convince me I'm outta my mind."

"You _are_ outta your mind." For some reason, there was a devious little glint in Kevin's eye, and Javier finally started to catch up. "But it's my job as your best friend to make sure you realize _why_. And since you answered everything without even noticing it - or tellin' me to shut up - I figure you pass." The Irishman smirked in triumph, added a "You're welcome," and slid into the passenger seat.

…_Huh_. So he had. Would you look at that.

Opening the door, Javier shook his head, grumbled "Yeah, yeah," and got behind the wheel. Ryan should charge for this crap.

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Streetlamps weren't protection enough. The sporadic, flickering pools of light against concrete barely offered any sanctuary from the dark, and here, in a neighborhood where the residents heard no evil, there was nothing unusual about one stricken girl's cries in the night.

Five minutes later, her body was left to the trash heap, and the demons fled to the shadows once again, another secret to be kept.

Around here, there were plenty.

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**(NO, the dead girl is not someone we know; I'll ease your minds on that one right now.) Interested where this is going? Eager to see how Javier (and Lanie) gets involved? Curious to meet his family? Stay tuned, there's more on the way. ;)**

**As always, anyone over 14 who's interested in a Castle RPG forum, see the bold section of my profile. Also, I LOVE and VERY much appreciate reviews, especially about favorite bits, so please do keep that in mind. **

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	2. Calm

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**Welcome back for chapter two. ;D Thank you to all who are reading. Let's catch up with Esplanie the following afternoon (now Friday). Enjoy. **

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_He went to the window and parted the curtain. There she was, leaning against that cherry-red convertible he'd coveted before, and she flashed him her best million-dollar smile. He couldn't help but think that maybe this time would be different. Maybe things between them wouldn't have to end. Then again, it was hard to believe in Perfect. _

-Richard Castle, '_A Calm Before the Storm_'

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"Go ahead, you can say it."

Lanie climbed out of the car and squinted the sun out of her eyes as she looked up at the house her boyfriend had grown up in. Then she looked at him over the car, screwing her mouth into a play-scowl when she caught him grinning. "Say what?"

"'It's not much.'"

She smacked his arm as he came around the back of the car. "If you think I come from some kinda mansion myself, you are seriously deluded," she chided. Her eyes went back to the building. "It's nice."

"If 'nice' is code for 'ramshackle,' then yes, it's definitely nice."

"Whatsa matter? Big Tough Detective isn't ashamed of his 'hood, now, is he?"

"Not at all." Popping the trunk, Javier hauled Lanie's duffel bag over his shoulder before she could protest or grab it herself, and in the process he threw a scrutinizing look at the roof work at the peak of the attic. "Just the opposite in fact. I'm ashamed to admit it's been three years since last the time I fixed the rain gutters."

"Then like I said." Lanie rose up on her toes to give him a brief kiss of approval on the lips. "I like it."

"Good," he replied, mirroring her grin. "Hoped you would." He returned her favor, then he bobbed his head toward the house. "Let's go."

The sidewalk wasn't any longer here than down the rest of the street, but Lanie took her time anyway on the walkup, tilting her head back to get the whole picture at once. The house wasn't big in width, but it was tall, sandwiched in on both sides by two more uniform houses just like it, only with slightly different colored paneling. This house was dark brown, the paint chipping away where the hose connected down by the foundation, and rose about three stories, if you counted the attic. A tiny wooden stoop preceded the front door, which seemed almost twice as wide as it should've been; it was freshly-painted to match the trim of the windows, dotted with two or three internal locks and an old-fashioned doorbell, the kind that lit up when you press it.

She tried to picture him as a boy here, the people inside, and how the hell she was going to keep up with all this new information she was in for, when she felt something nudge her arm. Lanie looked over to find Javier's eyes on her.

"Hey," he said. "You ready for this?"

_Last chance to bail, you know_, was what he might as well have said. Lanie got it, and she did appreciate that, but curiosity won over nerves any day of the week. Did for _her_, anyway. She gave him a smile. "You gonna ring the bell or do we just head in?"

He must've liked that answer. Digging in his pocket, Javier concealed another grin and procured a key to the main bolt.

It stuck a bit, but one turn did the job, and the door swung lazily into the foyer - or, what Lanie _assumed_ was a foyer. Or a hallway. A few closed doors and narrow doorway arches were on each side, with a single staircase straight ahead across a wood-paneled floor. She didn't fail to notice a scattering of frames on the wall, making a mental note to look at them later.

"_Oye, alguien quiere saludar a un hermano?_" Javier called out. He set the two duffle bags down by the floorboard, and before he could even stand up straight again there were footsteps rumbling down the stairs.

"Am I gonna be able to understand _anything_ this trip?" Lanie teased in a whisper.

Javier couldn't hide his affection if he tried - which he was - and just muttered back "Here we go" under his breath before being all but tackled by a mass of skinny limbs and long black hair. He laughed and hugged the girl back, and Lanie couldn't help but think she was going to like it here.

"_Por supuesto, idiota,_" the girl hugging him said, and then she pulled away just as abruptly, giving him an aggravated smack on the arm. "What are you doing letting yourself in? We were counting on a family hello. And you're late! Mama was about to start checking traffic blotters, you _know_ she gets paranoid, you meathead. Buy a watch."

"I did - oh, what a shame, look at the time. Is it Sunday already? See you at Christmas," Javier joked back, but Lanie's attention was on the girl - _woman_; she looked to be in her mid-thirties - and it wasn't long at all 'til that went both ways.

"Oh, no, you're not leaving now, not until you introduce us to this gorgeous _novia_ of yours," the woman smiled. Judging by the 'gorgeous' prefix, Lanie felt it safe to assume she'd been complimented, so she smiled back, giving a little wave.

"Ah." Lanie figured she'd let Javier do the introductions seeing as it was his roof and all, and when she caught him beaming with pride over there, she was glad she did. He gestured between the two women. "Lanie, this is my sister Rosa."

"_Older_ sister," Rosa winked. "I'm the only one allowed to tell him what to do."

"Watch out for the dictator complex," added Javier.

"I resent that, ass."

"Ro, this is my girlfriend, Lanie. She's the one I've been tellin' you guys about."

_The one he's been telling them about? That again, huh? What's he been telling them, anyway? __And why does my face feel about ten degrees warmer than it was a second ago?_

"_Dr_…Lanie Parish," Lanie supplied, offering her hand.

Rosa shook it eagerly. "It's so nice to meet you," she said. "You wouldn't believe how hard it is to get Javi to bring his women here."

"Yeah, well that's because '_Javi_' learned his lesson in high school when he realized you girls were crazy," Javier jabbed back. He picked up the duffel bags again, shaking his head at Rosa's silent offer to help. "Where's everybody?"

"Papa is still at work; the others are all in the kitchen."

"Ah. Why am I not surprised."

"_Javier_, you behave. They're cooking mountains of welcome-home food because Mama wants you fat apparently and you have nothing to complain about."

"Hold on, the cooking started already? Okay, _now_ we're talkin'."

Rosa goodnaturedly rolled her eyes Lanie's way, and that sealed Lanie's first impression. She _definitely_ liked this woman. "The one true way to his heart is a anything that comes in a casserole," Rosa jabbed.

The M.E. chuckled appreciatively. "I'll keep that in mind."

Before she could think to ask anything else, Javier's take-charge big sister was already ushering them through one of the doorways to the right, into what she assumed must've been the kitchen. Crème tile floor, pale yellow wallpaper, and a row of countertop with a stove along the back. Two more women stood around it - one of them pin-thin with a glossy ponytail, neither could've been taller than 5'4" - and a third sat with her back to them at the round kitchen table to the left, flipping through a tabloid.

"_Mamá_," Javier said warmly. Both women at the stove turned around as he approached them, and the one with the ponytail - Lanie marveled that she looked like she was still in high school - gasped and practically threw herself into his arms. Javier hugged her back, and Lanie immediately pegged this girl for his littlest sister. If Rosa had been enthusiastic, then this younger girl made her sibling look like a pallbearer. It wasn't hard to diagnose the adoration there.

"Javi!" the girl squealed.

"Hey, 'Ria," Javier laughed. He leaned over to give his mother a kiss on the cheek - the knowing look on her face said she'd been waiting for that - and turned his attention back to the excitable one. "How's school goin'?"

"Ugh, don't get into it," she dismissed, detangling herself, then quickly backtracked. "I mean, it's fine, I just have tons to do. But not this weekend. This weekend is about you and - oh, my gosh, you _did_ bring her!"

"I said I would, didn't I?"

"I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there - welcome!" The girl bounded over and all but tackled Lanie into a hug before the M.E. could register what was flying at her. The Latina answer to Tinkerbell backed off after a couple of seconds to get a better look. "I'm Maria. I'm _so_ excited to finally meet you."

"Gee, we couldn't tell," deadpanned the one still at the table.

"_Constance, esté amable o tu encarcelaré_," Javier warned. He pointed a thumb at the woman. "Lanie, this's my other sister Connie."

"Hey," said Connie, lifting her hand in a wave while she read a Gwyneth Paltrow article.

_Yep, you can tell she's a middle child_, Lanie thought in amusement. It was then that the matriarch made her way over, and Maria scurried back to tend the food on the stove like she'd rehearsed it. Even Javier seemed to hang back to the side, but Lanie couldn't diagnose his expression quick enough.

"Well, well, my son did not exaggerate," said the elder woman in what sounded like approval. Lanie was dying to know, _Exaggerate what?_ - especially since these were all sounding like compliments - but Mrs. Esposito already had both hands clasped around one of hers, greeting her officially with a peck on each cheek.

"Oh, my."

"It's wonderful to meet you. Javier has told us wonderful things."

_Oh, is that so? That answers some questions. We're gonna have to talk later._ "Oh, well, you too, absolutely. I'm just happy to be here, ma'am."

"You can call me Nina," Mrs. Esposito offered. Then she winked conspiratorially. "Or maybe 'mom'?"

"_Ma_," Javier hissed. "Can you not?" Oh, if Beckett could only see the look on his face. Lanie made a mental note to get a picture later if possible.

"Forgive me, I'm ahead of myself," Nina smiled. "But sit down, sit down, take some food, tell us about yourself! Javier says you're a doctor?"

"Medical examiner, but yes, basically," Lanie replied.

Javier nodded at the duffel bags over his shoulder. "Actually we were gonna go get settled a little; how 'bout we come down after?" he bargained.

Nina nodded, waving him away. "Fine, fine, _mijo_, God forbid anyone derail your plans." She kissed his cheek, he rolled his eyes, and gestured back out the doorway. Lanie gave them all a little wave and followed.

Javier led her straight up the stairs, and it took Lanie a moment to wrap her mind around the fact that he knew exactly where he was going. She hoped she didn't wake up in the middle of the night and trip over the railing. Talk about embarrassing.

"So, they're a little…overwhelming," he said once they were alone.

Lanie smiled. "I can handle a little enthusiasm. Especially if it's because…what's that again? So you've been raving about me, is that right?" Okay, she was baiting him. A little. Sue her.

"They, uh…so anyway, our room's that one there."

"Uh-huh," she smirked. Conversation _so_ not over.

They went through the second door on the left. Lanie wasn't sure exactly what she'd been expecting, but it dawned on her as soon as they were inside: this had been _his room_. As a _kid_. The one he'd lived in, made evident by the fact that it looked like it hadn't changed since he'd left it. Something about that was both mind-boggling and fascinating. Like she'd stepped into a time capsule.

"Oh, my God," she murmured.

A walk around this room revealed more about her boyfriend's life in thirty seconds than a half-hour of conversation with him would. The décor was typical male: blackout curtains in dark brown, a wood floor, wallpaper in blue-and-green pinstripes that was so faded and peeled, it looked like it hadn't been changed since he was an infant. But that wasn't what held Lanie's attention. Her eyes skipped over all of that in a matter of seconds and went straight for the dresser in the corner.

She felt Javier's eyes on her back and knew he saw what she was going for. "Looks like Ma changed the sheets for us," he tried.

"Hush, no way you're gonna distract me right now. It's like archaeology, only better."

He grumbled something, but she wasn't listening, and she took his resignation as a go-ahead, eyes glued to her find in awe.

The dresser was covered in framed photographs, two trophies as the centerpiece. Lanie read the inscriptions, and both were for football - _Football?_ - one for JV in eighth grade, one for Varsity in eleventh. One of the photos showed a much scrawnier version of him with a badly-done Fresh Prince fade, standing there in a number-nine jersey with his arm clamped around a buddy's shoulders. Another one featured him and his sisters - she roughly guessed ages five to fifteen, on the whole - posing for a family shot at the beach. Little Maria had sand all over her, Connie looked bored, Rosa posed like a mini-model, and Javier was dogpiled by all of them. The final frame showed him in a red cap and gown, pumping a rolled-up diploma over his head.

"_Javier Esposito_." Her jaw was hanging open when she turned around. "You have been holding back on me."

"The football was, ah…a phase." He rubbed at his jaw a bit; she couldn't tell whether he was hiding a smile or embarrassment.

She pointed to the little shrine/museum. "You set these up here?"

"Nope. Ma did that. I wasn't usin' the room and it seemed like the best place to put 'em."

"How come I have never seen these pictures before?" It was getting harder and harder to contain a gigantic grin.

"Oh, like you've shown me every last artifact from _your_ childhood," he shot back. He was behind her now, and his arms snaked around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder. "'Sides, if Ma has her way you'll be lookin' at the _really_ embarrassing albums by dinnertime."

"Hm, you know? I think I like that idea."

"Yeah, don't get _too_ excited. I'm sure there's a Zippo around here somewhere."

"Shuddup, you." Lanie turned around in his arms and met his lips for a moment, but quit and walked away before he could get too into it. Javier scowled.

"Oh, you are _such_ a tease."

"And you've got family waiting," she batted back, adding, "Y'know, it's cute, how you are with them. Especially Maria. You can really tell she looks up to you."

"Yeah, well, hopefully I'm cute enough _without_ 'em," he joked, humble evasion as usual.

Lanie considered. "On your better days, sure."

"Ouch," he laughed.

They were interrupted. "Javier!" The voice belonged to Nina, and it came from the bottom of the stairs. "Your father is home!"

"On our way," he called back. He tilted his head toward the door - "C'mon" - and Lanie followed the cue, leaving the room behind to head after him toward the stairs.

"Just know this is _not_ the last you'll be hearin' from me about a thing or two, mister."

"Ooh. Should I be excited or freaked?"

"That one's up to you."

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**(In case anybody's wondering, I kind of pictured Sofia Vergara as Rosa, America Ferrera as Connie, and Masiela Lusha as Maria, if I had my way. It helps me write them when I picture what they look like. :D And remember, if you've seen them before, it's just on my Castle roleplay forum: no idea-thievery going on here.)**

**Speaking of which: like I always say, if anyone's interested in a free, written Castle RPG forum, take a minute to check out the bold paragraph in my profile, kthx.**

**Got thoughts on Javier's family? Wondering when the murder part comes into it? Have a favorite part of this chapter? I adore reading your reviews, so please don't hesitate. Thanks everyone. ^^**

**A special shout-out to Kenwoody for being a generally awesome human being. :D More chapters are on the way.**

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	3. Season

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**This chapter picks up right after the last one. Don't let me stop you: enjoy. ;D**

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_There, beyond the trellis in the garden, lurked the face he never thought he'd see again. For a moment it hovered, watching his every move, hanging in the moonlight…then it vanished. He shook the face from his mind, returning to the comfortable lights and noises of the party. _

-Richard Castle, '_Storm Season_'

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Javier's dad looked just like him. Or, more accurately, Javier looked like his dad. That was the first and immediate conclusion Lanie came to as she headed down to the dinner table and was introduced to Carlos Esposito. At least, he looked like Javier if you added thirty or so years and a handful of extra pounds.

The man was easily the tallest member of the family, dwarfing the women by far and even Javi by an inch or two. He had the same solid, sturdy look about him that Javier did, and even the face was the same, albeit with the same soft, weary creases from age as Nina. The only real difference Lanie could see was that Carlos kept a thick mustache, and, where Javier kept his hair shaved close, Carlos' baldness didn't seem to leave him a choice in the matter. Other than that, she definitely knew where her man got his family resemblances.

Their patriarch didn't seem to be much of a talker, as all he said to Lanie was "Hello" and "Glad to meet you," with one nod, a smile and a handshake. She didn't mind. In fact, it was kind of a nice change of pace. Now she could see where Javier got his stoic side too.

This was definitely turning out to be one hell of an interesting sociology experiment.

Dinner was a loud affair, bits of conversations ribboning across a table that couldn't have been more well-spread if it tried. Rosa had made a sausage-and-tomato paella ahead of time, and it was served heated with extra cheese, Nina's fresh bread, and enough green salad to turn an Olive Garden the same shade in envy. Her first meal of the weekend, and Lanie was already sure she'd never eaten this well in _years_. Either that, or she was going to leave this house with ten more pounds than when she'd arrived. Everything was delicious.

But the food wasn't the half of it. Maybe it was just that she'd never really _done_ this before, but Lanie found herself amazed at how much she already enjoyed these people's company. She found herself listening intently as Maria told them all about her latest grad school project; she was studying to be an art or photography teacher. She found herself taking Nina and Rosa's side in a lighthearted debate over which type of sunscreen was better. She found herself laughing until a tear rolled down her cheek at Connie's story about talking her way out of a speeding ticket on the Brooklyn Bridge.

Mostly, she found herself having _fun._

And she found Javier staring at her from the corner of his eye at least three times when he thought she wasn't looking.

_Yeah, that's right, I can hold my own. Surprise you? You're not the only one with a few tricks up his sleeve, football-boy._

An interesting experiment, indeed.

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"Ooh, Lanie, over here. This one. This one."

"Oh, _come on_," Javier groaned, fighting a grin. He was promptly hit with a flying ballet shoe, courtesy of a now-barefoot Rosa.

"You knew what you were getting into when you brought her here, _hermanito_," she reminded.

"Yeah," echoed Lanie, "You knew what you were gettin' into." His girlfriend tossed a wink at him over her shoulder, then scooted around to see what the girls were talking about. "Show me that photo you wanted to show me."

Javier gave in to that grin after all, leaning back against the base of the couch. It would've been futile to deny it. This was _exactly_ what he'd been hoping for, _this_, right here, and it was only Friday evening. Lanie wasn't just getting _along_ with them, no: she was _meshing_ with them. And they were already crazy about her. Then again, where was the surprise in that? They'd loved Ryan. They'd even loved Beckett, the one time they'd met her. Lanie was no different…if anything, she was a little bit more. Or she _could_ be, at least now, now that this was a success. There was something rewarding about having all the people you loved get to love each other.

Javier's prediction couldn't have been more on-the-money if he'd tried. The second they'd finished sharing the dinner cleanup, his mother and the girls had taken over the floor of the family room, spreading out the contents every photo box and album in the house. As for him, he sat at the edge of the cluster, resting an arm up on the couch cushion behind him, just grinning as he watched his feisty girlfriend's jaw drop over a Polaroid of him in a onesie at sixteen months old.

Ryan and Ro were _both_ right. He _was_ crazy, and he definitely knew what he'd gotten himself into.

Crazy was fun. He liked it here.

"Oh, my God." Lanie threw a hand over her mouth, turning the picture so he could see it, then back again, letting a laugh escape. "Oh my _God_."

"He was a chubby thing, wasn't he?" Nina giggled.

"Look at you! Is that a tooth? And lookit those ears, like a cab goin' down the street with its doors open!"

"Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want. I grew into 'em." Javier smirked with the proper level of self-humiliation, raising one of his dad's cold beers for another drink.

"Well. He _thinks_ he did," Maria teased, wrinkling her nose for effect. "I've been meaning to tell you, big brother, the buzz cut isn't doing you any favors…" He chucked Rosa's ballet flat back at her, and she let out a squeal, ducking to the side.

"All right, all right, easy on the projectiles; shoes were meant for earth," their mother advised. Ah, how many times they'd all heard _that_ before. Good memories.

"Ooh. And this one." On her knees, Maria pulled another Polaroid out of a shoebox, shoving it toward Lanie.

Javier took that as his cue to wander back to the kitchen for a refill. He uncrossed his legs and stood up, brushing the creases out of his shirt. "While you people bust me out on somethin' else I think I'll take my chance to go grab another beer." He wagged the empty bottle at his father in the adjacent armchair. "You mind, Pop?"

Carlos waved a dismissive hand; the one that wasn't nursing his _own_ brown bottle. "You work hard, Javier; as long as you're not driving you stopped needing to ask when you were twenty-one."

He caught his mother shooting his dad one of those looks, but, figured it'd be better for his immediate health to take the 'yes' and run. "Thanks."

He took the circuitous route to the kitchen, around the mess of kiddie pictures and past Connie, who was lying on her stomach reading a newspaper, having tired of the 'let's-focus-on-Javier' parade an hour ago. An old impulse cropped up, and he couldn't resist - he nudged her in the ribs with his foot and she gasped, whipping around; obviously hadn't expected human contact. Being the annoying big brother was way too satisfying sometimes.

"I told you never to poke me, _pendejo_!"

"I didn't poke you, I kicked you in slow-motion, you never said anything about that."

"Do not make me trip you in front of your girlfriend," Connie growled. God, pissing her off was fun.

…Until Javier caught a glimpse of the newspaper she was reading.

The headline jumped at him, and he had to double-take to confirm it true, ignoring Connie's swats at his shoulder. He didn't feel it. He felt his blood slowing down.

"Get away from me, you doofus," she was saying.

"Shut up; what's that say? That story."

Connie put on her best put-out act, but Javier didn't care about that right now; it was nothing he hadn't seen before, unlike that headline, the one right there in front of him that managed to knot his gut just based on the slug. He snatched it from her and stood up, reading it for himself as she explained. "It's the local crime report crap, don't you get enough of that in your own borough? _Gimme_ that." She snatched it back.

Javier didn't fight her. He looked up, his eyes casting right past the concerned faces of the other women on the floor and straight to his mother, and he pointed at the newspaper. "Why didn't you tell me Marisela Quinones was murdered? Did you know about this?"

Maria and Rosa conveniently looked down at the floor. He felt Lanie's eyes glued to him, and knew without looking there was a '_what in the hell_' expression on her face. His father would be pretending to concentrate harder on the sports section. He ignored them all, waiting for his mother's answer.

Nina sighed. "Yes, Javier, I knew. I already sent a few dinners along to her family." The elder woman shrugged, busying herself with a stack of albums. "You of all people know, awful things like this happen sometimes. I didn't think the two of you were close."

"We weren't, I barely knew 'er - doesn't change the fact you shoulda told me. She's from around here, I'm a Homicide cop, I shoulda known."

"This weekend is supposed to be about family," Nina pronounced. "What would you have liked me to do, tell you every corrupt thing that's gone on since your last visit, the second you two walked in the door? It would do no _good_, Javier, and you know there is no murder in this house. I won't allow talk of it ruining things." As she spoke, it was clear to see the fine white lines around her pressed-together mouth; the worry that etched in along her eyes. Even the girls knew that, in the old house, murder was never spoken of. It was a small thing that kept Nina's own fears at bay, the ones of losing her only son to gunfire.

It wasn't _him_ she needed to be worrying about.

Javier nodded. It was like moving on rusted gears, but he forced himself to. "…All right. You're right." He looked away. "I'm sorry. Hey, give her family my sympathies, okay?"

Nina seemed pleased enough with that. She nodded in return. "I'll call Andrea in the morning."

That seemed to be the others' cue to breathe again. The atmosphere in the room fell back to a calm, and Maria and Rosa returned to their photo-hunt, Connie to her apathy, Carlos to only half-caring about ice hockey scores.

It was only Lanie who was still watching him, and when he looked her way, her gaze was fixed, questioning, and wouldn't let him go.

_You know I know more, don't you._

He couldn't sit down again after that. He didn't want another beer. He wanted air. "I'm goin' for a walk," Javier told them, taking his jacket off the front hook.

Instantly, Lanie got to her feet. "I'll go with you."

_Damnit._ Javier hesitated. He should've known it wouldn't be that easy to get out of here alone.

Lanie didn't hesitate at all. She never had. She simply flashed an apologetic smile at the other four, crossed the room, took up her jacket, and bored down on his eyes with the clearest message she'd ever sent. _We are going to talk about this; I have no intentions of being left out of the loop._

He exhaled, nodding once. "Fine. We'll be right back." And he led them out the front door.

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Javier waited until they were outside to speak. Lanie walked beside him as they turned left onto the sidewalk, and she waited. If she pried, she knew as well as anyone that he'd just shut down: patience was the way to go. Which was particularly difficult when she felt like she didn't _have_ any. She should get a medal for this.

He took so long to start that it almost made her flinch when he spoke. Almost. "The girl in the crime report grew up in this 'hood here with the rest of us," he said. He faced straight ahead, not looking at her or anything in particular.

"Yeah, I gathered that one…" Lanie tried.

"Her death was no accident."

"Murder usually isn't."

"I _mean_, it wasn't random. Muggings happen, maybe people get hurt, it's like that everywhere - but around here, everybody's family. If somebody winds up dead, then somebody else planned it that way. And somebody's protectin' 'em."

Lanie looked over at him. She'd seen him get tough before, usually on suspects, back before he was ever 'Javier' to her at all…but this wasn't that. This was something else. And whatever it was, she got the sinking feeling it was a whole lot worse. Suddenly, she understood. "…You know who at least one of those 'somebodies' are, don't you?"

His mouth set, but he didn't answer. He didn't answer because someone called his name from across the street, and they both looked over.

"'Ey yo, Javier! S'that really you? Ahh, man!"

The guy approached, and Lanie took those seconds to evaluate him again, but whatever was on his face was already gone. He'd replaced it with a grin, a big one, trying to look psyched about running into an old friend…except Lanie saw right through it. It was all fake.

_What for?_

She watched with no less confusion as the guy and Javier exchanged one of those pseudo-manly, hand-slap shoulder-hug combinations that nobody ever really bothered to name. "Hell yeah it's me, who you think? How you been, man?"

"Eh." This guy was a shade darker than Javier, and wiry; his clothes hung off him, aside from the kercheif around his head, and a tattoo snaked from his right shoulder down his arm. Lanie couldn't tell what it was. "Some up, some down, you know how it goes. Not like you, Mr. Big-City Money."

"Yeah, you wouldn't call it that if you had to live on it," Javier countered.

Then the other guy looked at _her_. Suddenly, she couldn't describe why she had the urge to scrub herself. "Who's the _chica_?"

"Ay…" Was it just her, or did Javier seem hesitant to introduce her? Lanie wanted to get it over with. She did it herself.

"Lanie Parish." She extended her right hand, telling herself that this feeling was just her being foolish, and tilted her head toward Javier. "I'm with him."

"Well, well well." The man shook back. "Just call me Demarco, beautiful."

_Okay, definitely feeling creepy_. She tried not to cringe. "Is that a…first name? Last name?"

"Only name anybody needs to remember," he winked.

_Great. Like Bono. Or Oprah. Don't you look cool._ Forced or not, the M.E. gave him a smile - her instincts toward this guy were starting to match Javier's obvious signals, but if _he_ was faking it, she should probably at least play along. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." Demarco turned to Javier. "Dunno how you did it, brotha, you got a real winner here."

"Yeah, I know." _Okay, is it just me, or is he in a hurry to get out of here?_ Must've been. Javier picked up her hand, and then they were heading back toward the house. "Hey listen. Got the family waitin' back home - but we'll catch up!" he called back.

"Sure, no problem. Give Mama E. my best, 'ey?"

"Yeah."

Then Demarco added something in Spanish, something Lanie couldn't begin to catch fast enough, and Javier fired something back, nodding once, but not looking back. And she could've sworn they both sounded a little…_off_ that time.

She knew it. It was written all over Javier's face. The way he was hiding it. His grip on her hand.

The way he stopped with her at the front door.

"Listen," he said, glancing toward the windows to the house. A lamp was on by now, and a curtain shifted, but no one inside seemed to be watching. His voice was down near a whisper. "You go on in. Hang out for a while, they'll be cool; if you get tired just go on up to my room."

"You're not comin' in?"

"Just go. I won't be long. You'll be fine here. Tell Ma I needed some air." His lips pressed her cheek, and then he let go of her, clattering down the stoop and onto the sidewalk.

It bothered her that his answer was so indirect. It bothered her that he was taking off to God-knows-where at nightfall. It bothered her that he looked so _bothered_ over something he clearly wasn't sharing.

Call her crazy, but Lanie was starting not to like this. Nevertheless, she turned around and went back inside, all the while with the feeling that this weekend would definitely _not_ be going as planned. She could only hope she was wrong.

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**Dun-dun-dunnnnnn! What's going on? Want to find out? Keep reading - and THANK YOU people who have been. **

**Like I always say, if there's anyone out there ages 14 or older who're interested in joining a cost-free, writing-based Castle RPG forum, just go visit my profile and read the bold paragraph. It's all there.**

**I adore nothing more than reviews. The specific-er, the better. Major thanks if you do. More to come.**

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	4. Warning

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**Annnnnd, I now proudly present chapter four. I'm apparently not allowed to kill people with suspense anymore. They say I go to Sing Sing for that. :P Enjoy.**

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"_You lied to me," he rumbled, a danger in his voice that kept him from recognizing it as his own. "All these years, it was an act. You made me believe you were a friend, but he was dead all along, wasn't he. The only thing you ever were to me was an enemy." He paused, and by the grin his enemy wore, not only was he glad to hear it, but guilty as charged. _

-Richard Castle, '_Storm Warning_'

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When she re-entered the house, Lanie tried to walk in with a clear head. From the look on Nina Esposito's face, she couldn't tell whether it was a success or not.

The elder woman didn't take more than a second before she asked. "Where's Javier?"

"He just needed some air." It left Lanie a little surprised to think how easy it was already to lie to this woman, and a little unsettled. She didn't _want_ to lie to this woman. So she topped it off with a reassuring smile, silently hoping Javier knew what the hell he was doing. "He said not to wait up, but he promised he wouldn't be too long."

Nina nodded, satisfied enough. "That's Javier," she sighed.

"Oh?" Lanie sensed a story here, and she tiptoed back across the memory-strewn carpet, sitting cross-legged in her former spot by the ottoman. The girls had cleared out - all three in the kitchen, from the sounds of it - and Carlos had presumably gone to bed, so it was just the two of them.

The older woman nodded again, just once, and exhaled, the picture of a fond, weary mother. "Every time something gets that boy's mind running, you couldn't keep him in the house. He'd be out the front door and off God knows where for at least a few minutes, sometimes as many as four, five hours. I'd have to nag him to promise to be home by dark," she chuckled.

Lanie did too, but she carefully noted the lines of worry around the woman's eyes; the way she took extra care with every photo she returned to its box. Just because Lanie wasn't a detective didn't mean she couldn't see.

She wondered what _else_ there was she couldn't see.

"But, then, I'm sure I don't have to tell _you_," Nina continued, smiling softly at her. "You must be used to it by now."

Not firsthand, necessarily, but was she ever. Beckett had told her of the times Javier had stormed off without a word, some crusade or other in mind, even if it was just to keep from punching somebody. It was those times that Lanie preferred not to think about. She just nodded.

"You know," Nina continued thoughtfully, "my son doesn't let us in very much about who he dates, where he goes, what he does with his time when he's not out and about, turning my hair grey with all that police business." She grinned a bit there, and Lanie, listening carefully, couldn't help but follow suit. "But he speaks highly of you…when he speaks at _all_, that is. Honestly, most of what the girls have even heard has been through _me_. He's like his father that way."

Lanie could see that. Just like she could see where this was going.

"I imagine you may look at him sometimes and wonder why he is the way he is." It was right about now Lanie was wondering if Nina had psychic powers. "The truth is that a lot has happened to Javier. Him even more than the rest of us. And maybe the way he's dealt with it hasn't always made me _worry_ less, but it's made me proud; made _all_ of us very proud."

There were a lot of things she wanted to say there, but she couldn't decide which. She was proud too, she was! And also curious - _what all's happened to him?_ And of course there was the compulsory need to compliment back: _He talks about you too, when you can get a sentence out of him_… But Lanie didn't get a chance. Clearly, she was here to listen right now, and the elder woman was content to do the talking. Lanie felt Nina looking at her and met her eyes.

"My guess is he waited so long to bring you here because he was afraid I would _interrogate_ you," Javier's mother scoffed, as if the thought was totally alien. Lanie smirked a little. "But…no. I can see this is the one time I don't have to say anything. I'll make my peace with that." She paused a beat. "He is much happier when you're around. That much I know. Take of that what you will."

_Well._ Lanie was beginning to truly believe that Nina Esposito was a very wise woman.

The medical examiner absorbed the whole little speech and nodded a couple of times, and that seemed to be enough for Nina. "Come," she said, a familiar motherly glint in her eye, and Lanie stood up first to help her. "The girls are dishing out ice cream in the kitchen."

That was the last that was said on the matter, and Lanie was left to ponder it over scoops of butterscotch with marshmallow, whose fat content she conveniently decided to ignore.

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Of all the worst times to run into someone. Of all the people to run into.

Javier couldn't stop going over it in his head as he walked, head down, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. He rewound it, played it back, slowed the words until it all sounded like a clown act. Wasn't it? That was all you could do when you were trapped. Clown. And hope nobody brought up anything deeper.

The temperature was falling now, but not by much. There always seemed to be more smog concentrated over this part of the city, whether it was true or just imagined; either way, it seemed to seal in a few extra degrees. All around him, porch lights and floodlights were coming on, inside lights going off in exchange, as the neighborhood went to bed. He pictured his folks, his sisters, and of course Lanie all doing the same thing back at the house he'd left. What choice did he have? He wouldnt've been able to join them. Not with his head like this.

Not with what he knew.

It was why, when Demarco had called out a time and place, he'd agreed. Knowing full-well he was about to be tested. For information, for restraint. It was why he was turning into the alley now, into the shadows, a place he wished wasn't so familiar.

Javier didn't have to announce himself. Demarco had obviously been watching, and now he emerged from the back, the darkness. A jagged grin had settled into his face.

"Didn't figure you'd show."

Habit ran deep, and Javier tilted his chin up, just slightly. "I keep my word, you know that."

Demarco laughed. "Oh, do I?"

"You _should_."

"A'right, fine, let's say I do."

"What do you want?" Javier wasn't about to start a banter-off with the guy. He just wanted answers. And he'd come to get them. He didn't move a muscle, holding himself tall.

The other man laughed again, spreading his hands wide in a gesture of innocence, feigned surrender. "Why I gotta want somethin'?"

"'Cause you always do."

"I just wanna catch up with an old friend."

"_Here_. In an _alley_."

"That a crime?"

"No, but murder is." Intended or not, Javier's voice had hit a low growl on that note, and he took a rather menacing step forward. "Marisela Quinones."

Demarco stood unfazed. He emanated calm, and it was infuriating. "I know the name."

"You better. You dated 'er. So why'd you want her dead, Demarco?" He hadn't come here with the intention of chewing open the local wound so point-blank, but he knew no other way about it. The words were out before he had a say in the matter. "What'd you do. Two in the back? Or you send a couple of your _boys_ to do the dirty work? I bet you got a lot more now than back in the day. Bet you got half the damn Barrio in your back pocket, don'tcha."

"Whoa, whoa whoa, 'ey." He still looked amused. He wasn't giving. "Y'know I don't like to get my hands dirty."

There wasn't a single thing Javier liked about that answer.

"Re-_lax_, you look like you 'bout to start steamin' out the ears," Demarco scoffed, taking a half-circle's walk around him. "Now, I know you ain't come out here as no _cop_, Javi."

"Don't you call me that."

"Back in your big-city, Central Park, Upper East Side li'l precinct setup you got, maybe. But you come over _this_ side'a town just to…what? You think I had somethin' to do with it?"

"I don't have to think. I know."

"Or maybe…nah, you're not here for that at all. You're here for that little _lady_'a yours."

"You leave Lanie outta this," he warned.

"Or…" Threat ignored, Demarco gave a shrug as he kept right on going down the list. He was challenging him. Baiting. Javier wouldn't bow. He stared him down, eyes hard. "Maybe it's charity. Figure you come out here for, what, couple days? Shake some hands, pat some backs, let your momma feed ya and feel _good_ about yourself for a little while. More like _that_, isn't it."

"It's not your _business_ why I'm out here," Javier shot back, low and dangerous, forcing the lid down before something blew. Even as he said it, the old folks' old words ran circles in his head, making Demarco's point despite how bad he hated it. _Nobody comes back to El Barrio._ Well it wasn't true. _He_ did. "I lived here, last I checked." Maybe he was trying to remind _both_ of them.

It wasn't enough. Demarco spoke through his teeth now. The venom was showing. "You did _once_. _Now_, you come around and I'm askin' myself why the hell you bother."

"My _family_, _also_ not your business."

"Yeah, and what for? You up and abandoned them too."

"_I didn't abandon anybody_. I left here with honor. Don't play me that."

Demarco was less than a foot from his face, now, practically snarling. "The only reason you left this place a 'hero' the first time was 'cause it wasn't _us_ you were fightin'. Guess you changed your mind."

"I'm not fightin' _anybody_ in this neighborhood." A beat, and out it came. Javier took a step closer. "Just you."

"Oh, _me_, huh?" scoffed Demarco. "How you figure."

"You're a criminal, and you know it."

"See, that's funny. I wasn't a '_criminal_' so much to you when you _ran_ for me - "

Demarco didn't get the chance to finish his sentence. The lid blew off, and Javier couldn't hold his rage down anymore. He grabbed him by the wife-beater, a fistful in each hand; slammed him against the brick and glared into the black coal of his eyes. "I never '_ran_' for you. That situation was on _you_. Get your story straight," he rumbled.

The outburst didn't even seem to shake Demarco. He chuckled, even - that was it - and then darted himself at lightning-speed out of Javier's grip, clamping a hand down on his shoulder, using the other to bend his arm behind his back. Pain shot down to his wrist, and he gritted his teeth, turning out of the fracture line.

"You're a joke," Demarco whispered over his shoulder, getting a sick satisfaction out of it. He grinned. "_Un traidor_. Just another…how do I put it…_policía cerdo_. So you best getcha ass back in line, soulja-boy, 'cause since you been gone, we don't _play_."

"That a confession?" Javier bit off.

"No." Demarco released him, and he shook out his shoulders in defiance. "That's my condolences. I'm real sorry 'bout Marisela. But hey. Good luck catchin' who did it. If you're dumb enough to get involved."

If that was supposed to be a challenge, it was received loud and clear. And accepted. Because it sure as hell wasn't the truth. Javier would wager his life on that much.

"But, of course," added the other man, turning to walk away, "Even _you_ wouldn't be _that_ dumb. Not with…" He chuckled, for no other reason than to rile him up again. "The little family back home. And the girl. Wouldn't wanna disappoint 'em. Y'know."

"I mean it, you stay the hell away from Lanie," Javier growled. "You stay away from my family."

"Oh, don't worry brotha." Javier felt his skin crawl at the term. "Even if I did that kinda thing, I wouldn't be into 'em…gets messy when you start goin' after locals…'specially who ain't done nothin' wrong. You oughta know."

"Why don't I believe you."

Demarco shrugged. "Just couldn't say. Maybe like how I don't really believe you plan to keep your nose out of it."

"I'm a _cop_."

"Oh, I know."

"A _homicide detective_. And you're askin' me to let a murder alone."

"It's for your own good."

"What about Marisela's? Was it for her 'own good' too" Javier challenged back. He took another step nearer the man again. Proving, just maybe, that he wasn't afraid. "What happened to protectin' your own? Or is that what you're doin' right now. Protectin' your _own_ ass."

"Ay." Shaking his head, Demarco let out a sigh. "Javi, Javi, Javi."

"Don't you _call_ me that."

He felt the sting like acid when Demarco's hand came to rest on his shoulder. Javier shrugged it away - no gesture of brotherhood would fix what hadn't been one in the first place. He felt the change in the thug's gaze as he raised his eyebrows and backed slowly away, and beyond a doubt, he knew a line had been drawn in the sand.

"I got…nothing but the deepest sympathies for the family," said Demarco calmly. His level of earnestness was sickening. "You know I'm a compassionate guy."

"Like hell."

"But all I'm sayin' is…I think she'll see justice just fine, long as you stay away from it."

He stepped forward once more. "And if I don't?"

"Well." The streetlights were at his back now, and the silhouette that was left of Demarco cracked a grin. "Let's just say…I don't think you'd want anybody in that pretty little house'a yours knowin' any…_undisclosed information_ that you might not've shared with 'em. Would you. 'Specially if they had to find out so _tragically_ once you weren't around to explain yourself."

"You son of a bitch," Javier murmured, murder in his eyes.

Demarco was undeterred. "We have an understanding?"

The knot in his stomach forced the bile into his throat, and even that was no match for the sum of his thoughts toward the coward in front of him. Javier hesitated, knowing what would happen on the other side of each answer…

All he needed was one lie. He had to make it good.

"Fine," was word he chose, said with enough force - enough reluctance - that anyone would believe him.

"You're out?"

"I'm _out_."

"Good. Bright idea." One more time, Demarco gave that smirk; it was what he was good at. Even dared to laugh. "Guess you like bein' the hero a little too much, don'tcha Javi." With that, he turned his back, walking for the open street. "Catch you around."

Somewhere, in a corner of Javier's overactive mind, he had the distinct thought that Demarco had better pray, for his own life's sake, that he didn't. Finally, he exhaled, and it was a long moment in the dark before he finally turned himself and walked home.

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**Shout-out for this chapter goes to runeaglerun. Thanks for the reviews, friend! I always get a big smile on my face when I see one. :D Also, you got it right, castlelover100! That's definitely the same guy. ;) **

**As you can tell, I clearly get a huge kick out of new reviews, and they really help me know what's holding you guys' interest, so please keep 'em comin'! **

**Once again: Want info on a Castle RPG? See the bold section in my profile. Want to find out what happens next in this story? Just stay tuned. ;) More to come. **

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	5. Drive

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**Chapter five, hot off the…well, keyboard. XD To my readers: thank you! To my thankers: You're very welcome. ^^ Do enjoy.**

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_In the morning, he half expected to find a note on his pillow. An absence of her, and an explanation for it - no one would be insane, or suicidal, enough to stick around if they knew the risks. And she barely knew the half of them. Instead, he opened his eyes to the rich smell of her signature morning coffee. For the first time, he didn't know how he felt about that. _

-Richard Castle, '_Driving Storm_'

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Midnight had come and gone. He dragged himself inside, shutting and bolting the door as silently as he opened it. Everyone must've been asleep by now.

Javier flicked on the lamp, filling the room with yellowed light 'til where the darkness crept in at the edges. His badge, gun, wallet and keys each sounded off as they hit the coffee table; an echo to the soft protests of his dad's armchair as he sank himself down. It offered him little release, even physical. To _forget_ would be the release, but then, he didn't anticipate that for himself tonight.

The silence made it easy to hear soft footsteps coming from the stairs. After a slow moment, the muffled padding of socks against carpet came to a stop behind his chair; Javier didn't turn. He knew it was her.

Confirmation came like relief. Soundlessly, a smooth pair of familiar hands dipped into the back of his shirt collar, pressing into his skin as they trailed down. Across the breadth of his shoulders, sliding down his back, working slowly up to the back of his neck. His eyes closed, and he took a slow deep breath, leaning into her so subtly that only she noticed.

The silence hung over for another long few minutes, other than the occasional, soft humming sound from Lanie as she worked. She moved to knead the heels of both hands over his left shoulder; she'd noticed he'd been favoring it, if almost imperceptibly. A low, quiet groan came from the back of Javier's throat, tension breaking from every muscle she touched. Either she had experience doing this professionally, or it was just how well she knew him.

In the same way that she'd sensed what he'd needed, she seemed to sense that he was in no rush to discuss where he'd been. Lanie waited those few, good long minutes before she spoke her first words since he'd been home.

"I'm not gonna ask," she said quietly. In keeping with that, she kept busy, switching to his other shoulder. "I may not _like_ it, but...if you think it's somethin' I shouldn't find out about, then I won't ask."

Javier exhaled, letting those words sink in. She was too good to him...and she was his girlfriend. Whether he liked it or not, that meant she was in this too, too late to go back. She deserved the truth, at least what he could give of it, in acknowledgement of that.

He rubbed a hand over his face, letting it drop into his lap. "You already know," he relented.

Behind him, Lanie's expression dipped into a frown. "Demarco?" Her guess came all too knowingly, not liking where this was going.

He bobbed his head. "Yeah. ...He sent a couple of his boys to do the deed on Marisela. If he didn't do it himself."

"You sure?"

"On your life and mine both. But it's circumstance. There's nothin' I can go to the PD with that'd talk loud enough to put him away. And it's outside my jurisdiction to investigate. Can't just go pokin' around another precinct's homicide."

"And, if you just happened to tip off the cops in this district in the right direction…" Lanie assumed what would fill that blank she'd left.

Again, he nodded once, and proved that assumption right. "I'd be dead by tomorrow morning."

But that wasn't his worst fear. Because it wasn't an _entire_ truth. Demarco had his ways of making sure Javier never opened his mouth about this neighborhood again.

Lanie said nothing, but he heard her exhale through the nose, and her hands drifted to a stop on his shoulders. Javier shut his eyes again, but this time to wait for what she'd say. She didn't make him wonder long.

"That's not gonna stop you, is it."

If it didn't sound like a question, that's because it wasn't. She knew exactly who she was talking to, and she'd seen that streak more than a few times in her life.

Javier shook his head, just the once. "No. I can't let her killer walk."

She nodded; he could tell without turning around. There were some things they'd both seen coming. "And I don't suppose there's anything I could say to stop you."

It was his turn not to speak. He took a long breath in, and on the exhale, reached one hand up behind his shoulder, lightly taking Lanie's wrist. She obliged when he pulled her around the chair to face him. Javier kept her hand, saving her from folding her arms out of habit. Maybe out of defense, in a way.

"Marisela isn't the first. These guys have been doin' what they're doin' for...hell, a lot longer than anybody knew about. Someone doesn't put a stop to it, and it'll keep happening. I got to."

"Well who says it has to be _you_?"

"Baby - "

"I know." Lanie cut off his explanation; the words weren't necessary. Her eyes lowered to their hands, and she added her other, closing both around the one of his. "Doesn't mean I need to _like_ it." Glancing up again, she was wearing her 'warning' face at him. "You promise me you're gonna be careful about this, Javier."

"I promise."

"And what about Kate?"

"What _about_ Beckett?"

"Shouldn't you call 'er? Wouldn't she be able to help with all this?"

He was already shaking his head. "This's _my_ fight. Hopefully it'll all be over fast and clean and she won't need to know about it."

Lanie raised an eyebrow before he even finished the sentence. "Leaving Beckett out of her own teammate's investigation - I think that's almost more dangerous than the thugs."

"It's gotta be this way. She's had enough trouble goin' rogue as it is."

"Then what about Ryan? You like him, remember?"

The sarcasm in her question was a pretty crappy veil for the desperation behind it. Javier barely had to consider before he shook his head again. "No. No. Last thing he needs is to get tangled up in this 'cause of me." If you'd asked him, it was the last thing _any_ of them needed, but it was already too late in Lanie's case.

"The man is your _partner_, Javier. Your best friend."

"I know that."

"From what I heard, last time you tried to do somethin' stupid without lettin' him in on it, he didn't take it so well."

All the air left his lungs at once. "I know. I remember. I do. But it's bad enough _you're _already in this. Hell, it's bad enough _I'm_ already in this." He brought a hand down his face, not sure if it was the first or the thirtieth time. "If Ryan…" What he really wanted to say was that he wouldn't lose another partner for old ghosts. Not this one. "I need to do this alone."

Lanie, shockingly, wasn't too comforted by that answer. "Okay, now you sound convinced it's all gonna go terribly, horribly wrong."

"I'm not. Still doesn't change the fact that it _could_. The less people in on it the better."

"And yet, somehow it's worth risking _yourself_…?"

"Look." He got her concern, but this kind of conversation got old quick, particularly to a man who'd been risking his neck since he was nineteen or twenty - even before that - and wasn't all that fazed by it anymore. People's worry still somehow came as a surprise. He softened his tone for her. "It's still an investigation, just under the radar. I'm not gonna do anything reckless, you have my word."

"Mmm-hm, this from the same man who works with a certain Nikki Heat. Somehow I don't quite buy that."

"I need you to trust me, Lanie."

"I trust you. It's - "

"I know, I know. It's _them_ you don't."

"No. Well, _yes_, but I was _going_ to say that whether I trust you or not won't keep this from eatin' you alive."

Javier let a moment pass after she said that. "It can, actually," he said in earnest. She had no idea how much.

The subtext wasn't lost on Lanie, but the gears were still turning behind her eyes; new thoughts and questions sprang up every few seconds, most of which she muffled. Then something sparked her intrigue, and she couldn't pass it up. She squinted thoughtfully, head cocked to the side. "An M.E. doesn't have the same district restrictions as a cop."

The detective's look was similar. "What're you gettin' at, _cari_?"

"Just because you don't have much authority in these parts doesn't mean you need to go gettin' involved in this without backup. I can just as easily 'consult' with the chief M.E. around here and check the body for anything they mighta missed. If you're doin' this, so am I."

"Whoa, whoa. Lanie." Javier held up a palm, maintaining his cool, but with a definite '_turn back here_' look in his eye. "No. I appreciate it, but I can't let you get any closer to this than you already are. I can't let you."

"_Let_ me?" _Now_ she folded her arms, leveling a stare at him. "Oh, so _you_ can risk hide or tail for somethin' like this, but _I_ can't."

"I signed up for this when I put on the badge. You didn't."

"Well from what I see, your badge won't be doin' you a lot of help out there."

He kept his voice calm and low. "Lanie, Demarco already knows tha - "

"That we're together, and where to find me," she supplied, cutting him off mid-sentence. "So fine, that's all well and good. But since that's the case, don't you think I'll be a lot safer the sooner he's _off_ the streets?" Talk about hitting his weak side with the one point he couldn't argue with. Like him, Lanie's first concerns weren't for herself - and like him, her stubborn will was on an 'undenied' streak. "You're gonna need help. Nobody's gonna cooperate and just _hand_ you the autopsy files to someone else's case. And they aren't lookin' for the right people. You are."

Javier sighed heavily, shaking his head toward the carpet. He'd be stupid to try to think this conversation _wasn't_ a losing battle, but, gave it one more shot. "You know you could lose your _job_ over this." Provided they got hit with the very _least_ of the spectrum.

But Lanie didn't see it that way. There were almost, _almost_ traces of a smirk on her face, defiance winning out. "No, I can't. Like I said, we M.E.s don't run in districts. I can consult on whatever the hell I want." He opened his mouth to protest, but Lanie held up a pausing finger. "If anyone _were_ to ask, I'm 'comparing abrasions' on a hunch; I _certainly_ don't know any rogue detective. As for those thugs of Demarco's finding out, they won't. I'm just as deep in this as _you_ are, Javier. And I don't believe '_no_' was one of your options just now."

That last kicker there - her whole schpiel, actually - put a fleeting half-smile on his face. But the part before _that_ made it vanish again. '_I'm as deep in this as you are._' He knew what she meant by it. That she was _prepared_ to be; that she'd stand by him no matter the risks involved. He loved her more for that.

But...there was another context there. She wouldn't _ever_ be as deep in the real side of this as he was. And he hoped she never would.

He was just going to have to make sure he kept it that way.

All the orders in the world wouldn't matter; not when Lanie Parish had made her mind up. Letting out a breath, Javier held out a hand, asking for hers back. "C'mere."

He brought her toward him when she gave it. Getting a leg up, she joined him on the chair, knees tucked to the side. His arms circled around her, and Lanie subtly snuggled into his chest, breathing in the cottony scent from his jacket and the faint trace of cologne and the feeling of something familiar. Javier pressed his lips against her hair, holding her like that for what felt like so long they could've both fallen asleep, just like that.

Finally, he broke contact, sitting back to get a look at her and letting one hand idle with the ends of her hair. "So. How 'bout I fill you in on what you're lookin' for."

Lanie's eyes glinted as she looked up at him. "How 'bout...you can start with that tomorrow," she compromised.

Finally, the weariness on his face bent into a lopsided grin. "So brash, Dr. Parish," he whispered huskily against her cheek.

"Now what makes you think _that_ was what I meant?" she chuckled. "You do remember your family's just a few rooms away in this place."

He laughed softly, his lips moving a centimeter from her ear. "Tell you a secret...they sleep like _los muertos_."

She knew what meant 'dead' when she heard it. Lanie weighed sensibility against the merit in the smile on her face; when you put it _that_ way, there was just no contest. Together they stood, she took his hand, and he led the way, part of her mind reflecting in amusement at this shiny new christening for a very old bedroom.

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"Do it."

"But - "

"Did I ask you for an opinion? Just _do_ it." The command was followed by a string of Spanish under his breath, all insults and curses enough to make every one of the old mothers cover their ears.

The hired one sent a doubting gaze over to the man in power - doubting, yes, but not enough to outright refuse. He had a family to feed, after all. And to live for. "Look, boss," he said anyway, even while holding up his palms in submission. "Man, if there's cops onto us, don't you think we shoul' cool it off for a little while?"

"Ain't no _cops_ onto us. Jav Esposito's onto us. That's different." Demarco paced a tight line, back and forth once, then stopped himself, disgusted. Who did Big City think he was, trying to get him riled like this? The man was the same thing he'd always been. A nobody; absolutely nothing. There were _toddlers_ around here more troublesome than a fly like him.

Both of which he had no problem 'taking care' of, should the situation arise.

"Don' soun' different to _me_, man."

"He's all talk."

"Still a cop."

"He ain't a _threat_." Demarco whirled on him, then got his cool again, taking a long, deep breath in and out. He walked slowly toward his cousin, pointing a finger at him as he spoke. "I made sure of that. An' if that _changes_, you just leave it to _me_, you heard?" The other nodded. "Good. Now I said go through with it, so go through with it. If I wake up tomorrow and J-Rey ain't out with the trash, someone else is gonna have to be. You got me?"

"Gotchu, believe me."

"Yeah, you're damn right you do. Now go on. Get."

He waited a good five minutes after his cousin jogged off into the darkness before Demarco turned and retreated himself. He was gonna need a long night's sleep tonight.

Maybe by morning, there'd be a few more people in this town who'd learned not to cross him.

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**Yep, I'm evil. ^^ How many people is this guy gonna order whacked, anyway? You'll just have to wait and find out. ;) In sum: yes, he is one dangerous dude.**

**Once again, because I say it on every Castle-related chapter I publish: Looking for a writing-based Castle RPG board? Look no further than the boldfaced paragraph on my profile page, and it'll give you all the information you need. ^^**

**And of course, I simply adore reviews. Thank you to those who've done so; you guys really put a smile on my face when I know you're interested (this time I'm looking at you, Duck Life; I could get used to doing shout-outs), and it's the best motivator to make it good. So thank you and please consider continuing! We all know reviews are love. :D**

**The next chapter is already underway - I wouldn't leave ya hanging. ;)**

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	6. Approaching

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**In case you couldn't tell, this story is going to be **_**long**_**. XD I'm covering practically every hour of their weekend/the case, and averaging about 3,000 words per chapter. I apologize if it's driving you crazy. XD Anyway. Here's chapter six for you, with some more Esplanie angst-fluff (because I just can't help myself. I'm shameless). XD We'll get back to more of the case/family stuff VERY soon, and we'll also start to see some flashbacks. (They'll be in italics, apart from the 'Storm' excerpts.) Enjoy.**

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_The thing about the high road, he decided, was that it was by far the more difficult one to take. To do it voluntarily required bravery, integrity, maybe even a little idiocy. Stubbornness, certainly. Its reward lay in avoiding the evils on the other side…then again, to some, it was debatable whether it was a decision at all, or whether good and evil were simply ingrained. _

-Richard Castle, '_Storm Approaching_'

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There was something to be said for being exhausted. It may not've been glamorous, but it was a funny thing: first you earned it, working your week away to make a living. Then, in an attempt to get _rid_ of that exhaustion, you wound up right back in that place, but for much more desirable reasons.

Lanie found herself in that second place right now. She kept the sheet cinched around her body, but truthfully, it was sharing his skin that was keeping her warm. She let herself partially overlap him, using his arm like a pillow. Hell, they _both_ deserved the rest, and from the relaxed rhythm of his breath as he traced up and down her back, he wasn't complaining.

Body satisfied, her mind roamed a little - seemed like it'd been doing more of that lately. Lanie wasn't naïve. She had no trouble being an independent woman, nor was she ashamed to admit she'd been with her fair share of guys…but for the life of her, she couldn't remember ever being this comfortable. Until this one. She was in his childhood house for God's sake; it almost scared her how well it all fit.

She found herself talking, even if only to keep him awake for some reason. "Scale of one to ten," she asked, referring to ten minutes ago.

"Mmmm…" He thought about it, and she drew light little patterns on his collarbone with a fingernail. "Fifteen." A grin accompanied his answer. He looked at her then. "You?"

"Ooh, let's not be those 'was it good for you too' people, okay?" she laughed. "Besides, I thought my approval was pretty obvious." Which had been impressively creative, considering they were trying to be quiet.

"So, sixteen? Twenty-five?" he guessed.

"Mmm, somethin' like that."

She laughed when he did, and in the back of her mind somewhere, Lanie acknowledged that other part of her that was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. _It couldn't just keep going like this_, it said. Nobody could be this happy forever - not an M.E. and a murder cop, anyway.

That voice had almost done its share of ruining things, a time or two, and it liked to wave the odds of 'office romances' under her nose far more than she cared for. He was Esposito, it reminded, the detective she saw at crimes scenes, and by crossing that line...well, the rules about this kind of thing were long gone; broken, trespassed, out the window. It was flirting with fate, and somebody'd have to pay the piper eventually. So the voice nagged, churning up worst-case scenarios, trying to say that theoretically, she couldn't keep him. That he belonged, in a different way, to Beckett. To Ryan and the 12th and the state of New York. To the family living in this house. The sheer number of claims that were staked on him were respectable in themselves. Then again, he was a hell of a respectable man.

And didn't she deserve a respectable man? Yes. She absolutely did. So there you go.

Those doubts didn't understand they were dealing with Lanie Parish's mule-like loyalty, here.

Javier's voice broke her thoughts. "You should sleep. Busy day tomorrow."

"Hmm, not just yet."

Lanie figured she might've surprised him with that one, but to hell with it; she deserved to enjoy this a little longer if she wanted to, considering he was about to walk headfirst into a _gang_ operation - as if the little voice wasn't _already _friendly with the odds. Where was the use in sleeping it all away? But of course, he was not one to give up on a curiosity. Should've figured.

She felt his weight shift on the narrow bed as he turned himself on his side, propping up on one elbow. He studied her carefully. "You okay?"

The fact that he cared enough to ask was one thing; she was used to it. Giving her a better _view_ of him in the process, that was another. It was the added 'do-not-avoid' card. How was that fair? "I'm fine," she replied, pulling a chunk of her hair from where it clung to the back of her neck.

"Lanie." The soft way he said her name, her defenses all melted...but didn't that just go to prove her point? He shouldn't be _able_ to. And he shouldn't need to shed his rough edges because she wasn't strong enough to resist. It was supposed to be harder than this to get to know her, dammit…oh well. Too late for _that_, she supposed.

"Maybe I'm just not tired."

"Well then that means you're lookin' for an encore, or else you're lyin' and there's somethin' more important on your mind. Either way, it involves me. So tell me. C'mon."

_Damn detective. _Psh. She _wished_ it was as easy as an encore. If all the crap in her head could go away just by pinning him down and abandoning rhyme and reason, Lanie probably would've done it in a heartbeat. Even with the family downstairs, which was saying a hell of a lot. Unfortunately, not all solutions were that fun. Sometimes they had to include grown-up things like talking; sometimes even saying things you never planned to say out loud, but came out anyway, too late to take back.

"What happens if this all blows up?" she blurted. Well, there you go.

Javier took a long, deep breath in. She waited. "I, ah…I dunno. I.A. would prob'ly get involved… They'd have to look into my investigation, see what all I went against."

"And what all are you goin' against?"

"Not that much."

"Javier, how much is 'not that much?'"

"Lanie…"

She must've had him past some limit by now, because Javier pushed himself to the backboard and sat up. Gathering her sheet, Lanie followed him, feeling a weird unease, a dread, kind of like she was awaiting a life sentence herself. Eh, at least she'd had a good last hour.

"I don't know what else you want me to tell you," he stressed calmly. His eyes bore carefully into hers, which, somehow, only made her feel dumber for ruining the moment. "What do you want me to do. Walk away? I'm sorry. You know I can't."

_It'd be nice_, she wanted to say. But that wouldnt've helped. "I just wanna know where the line is," she said instead, unplanned. "It's not like we can just explain somethin' like this away later. Good or bad, this could follow you."

"I told you, you don't have to get involved," Javier reasoned, trying to find the root of this second wind of hers.

"And I told you, like hell I don't. You know if you're in, I'm with you. I gave my word on that."

"Then what's the matter? Thought we talked about this."

"We _did_, I just d...aaagh, you know what, just forget it."

"Hey. Can you stop for half a second please?" Javier was using a sterner tone on her now, like she was making him fear for her mental health, and he stopped her from turning around. _Dammit._ _Great job Parish_. The second time, his voice was gentler, searching her out. "Why are you so wound back up about this? I thought we were okay."

"I don't know." Well, at least _that_ one was easy to answer. "We are, we're fine. I honestly have no idea. I'm sorry. Just…forget whatever I just said."

"No, I'm not gonna forget what you said; we're gonna figure out what's wrong here."

"What if I don't know?"

"I can wait."

"Okay, but for how long?" she pouted. Yes: _pouted_. Thoroughly hating herself with every fiber of attitude that was in there.

"Well, we do have to leave eventually…" Lanie didn't quite get that he was joking until she looked up at him. Which he made her do. The little baby grin was a giveaway, but it went again quick enough. It seemed like fifteen years went by, and she couldn't think of anything to say…then he did it for her. "You think Demarco will get to me before I get to him," he read. "You're thinkin'...this is gonna rain hell down on us both. The kind we can't fix."

"…Can you ever just suck at your job?" she muttered.

"Nope." Oh sure: _that_ one, he caught. In the following silence, she avoided his eyes until he spoke again, a concern in his voice that she'd never heard quite that earnest before. "Lanie. You know I'd never put you in harm's way."

"Wait, wait." This was going too far in some not-entirely-factual directions. Lanie held her hands up, getting her thoughts together. She needed to regain some control, here. "That's not what I'm saying. I'm not accusing you - "

"Of going on some self-righteous crusade?"

"No. I'm not." Even though it sounded like that was _exactly_ what she'd been saying. Because she meant it when she said she didn't think that, and he needed to know that right now. If she could manage to get a hold on what she meant at _all_. You had to give her credit for trying. "I don't mean that I think you're crazy for doin' this," she amended. "I know why you're doin' it - and trust me. If this was for glory, I wouldn't be wastin' my time worryin' about you; I'd be plottin' out the slowest way to make sure you never have kids." _Atta girl, that's the Lanie Parish we're all used to_. Javier must have been just as relieved to hear that, because he grinned for a second there before she went on. "I just…"

..._Damn_ it. She'd been _so close_ to being on a roll, and then there she went, hesitating again. Javier caught on to that, and reached up to tuck some of her hair behind her ear. He waited, then: "Just what?"

"I just…" She exhaled, closing her eyes as the words tumbled out. "This is different."

He blinked. "...Different."

"This isn't like a usual case, Javi." _And I don't wanna lose you over it_. "Much as I want to help you as much as I can, truth is I'm not a cop...you're goin' it on your own out there with these guys." Lanie took a deep breath. "It kinda scares the hell outta me."

His eyes softened, and Lanie would have smiled at him if it wouldn't have broken all her resolve to finish talking. As it was, she just crossed her arms over the sheet, glancing off to the right somewhere. People like him, like Beckett, weren't the only ones who had that illusion of control.

"If they hurt you... I just feel like this is the case where it's a lot more real of a possibility than it was before. And don't say I'm crazy, 'cause I'm not. It's true."

Then Javier just about laughed. _That_ one, she hadn't seen coming.

"_Chica_." Lanie had about five ways in mind to wipe that grin off his face - two of them dirty, three of them painful…no no: _four_ of them painful - but then he spoke again, and all that went away. Most of it. "You do know what you're sayin', right? 'Cause you don't hafta be scared to _say_ it, y'know. I said it first."

The M.E. scoffed. "You said it in _Spanish_. Doesn't count."

"Tell that to Esai Morales."

"And that's not even my point."

He mimed a phone with one hand. "Hello, Twelve Kinds of Ridiculous? It's Lanie Parish again, I'm back."

"Boy - "

"Well what do you want me to say?" he laughed.

She scowled, re-crossing her arms. "I don't see what part of this is funny to you."

"Just that you're a helluva lot more obvious than you think you are, that's all." He slipped his arm around her shoulders, and before Lanie could threaten him anything, he cut straight to the chase she'd been circling all along...he kissed her temple, and suddenly she wondered why she'd ever fought it at all. "I love you too, baby. And it's gonna be all right. I'll be okay, I promise you."

...Well, good. She liked that answer. "...Okay, fine. You pass," Lanie granted, and she lay back down, shimmying into his grip, affectionately rolling her eyes when she felt him still chuckling at her. "Jerk."

Damn him. Not even their pillow-talk was orthodox.

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_This was a popular corner for the middle-school kids. It had rare traffic, just one streetlamp, and the good fire hydrant; the one that turned the curb into a waterpark with the right twist of a wrench. Half the households who worked in this economy were grateful to this corner as a substitute babysitter and cable TV package, all in one, since more times than not, it covered for the real thing._

"Oye, Javier_!" _

_Squinting through the fading sunlight, he looked over, finding his pal Ronnie jumping up and down, hands raised over his head. Javi grinned, gave the Nerf football a clap, and pulled back an arm, sending it sailing to the kitty-corner. Ronnie leapt out to catch it, but he underestimated, and it sailed past his head, thunking into a cluster of trash cans. _

_Javi pumped a fist in the air. "Whoo! You lose."_

"_Man!" Ronnie waited for an oncoming car, then trotted after the ball, plucking it from the gutter it'd rolled into. "Why you gotta be like that?"_

"_Like what? You mean _good_?"_

"_We can call it even though right?"_

"_Fine, butchu still owe me a dollar."_

"_Okay." Ronnie was a smart kid; he took compromises. He looked up at the streetlight. "Ma says I gotta be home by time they come on," he said, nodding at it. "What about yours?"_

"_I got 'til supper," Javi replied. "I'm tired of playin' though. Hot as a bitch out here." None of the mothers would ever know about it, but it was this year that most of the boys had started using whatever phrases they'd heard from their dads, MTV, and the old guy at the gas station. Middle school was no place for babies. He wiped his forehead with the back of his arm as if to prove his point about the heat._

_Ronnie chuckled, wiping his palms on his t-shirt. "Damn straight." _

"_So, what do you wanna do?"_

_Shrug. "I dunno. Wanna go down to your pop's work again and see if he'll buy us Cokes like that one time?"_

_Javi shook his head. "Nah, he's pretty pissed off. I heard 'im tell Ma that somebody brought a car in he don't know how to fix."_

_Ronnie pulled a '_yikes_' face. "Ouch. So then where?"_

_He gave his friend's shoulder a shove, mock-scowling along with it. "Man, _I_ dunno, how come _I_ gotta come up with all the ideas?"_

"_Hell, I just don' wanna go home. Home means homework."_

"_So _you_ think'a somethin'."_

"_Fine, I…whoa, hey, look. Look over there."_

"_What?" Javi whipped his head around._

"_Over there! Quiet. What's he doin'?"_

_It seemed like it took forever and a half, but Javier finally found what he was talking about. Across the street and down about half a block, behind the old repo'd station-wagon with the fake-wood sides, was somebody they both recognized. Somebody their age, from their school. Only, he was talking to a couple of guys a lot taller, and probably a lot older. He gave them something, something that Javier couldn't see from here, but he wasn't a dumb kid, or a sheltered one, either. He knew it was probably on _purpose_ that nobody could see it, and he was pretty sure he knew what it was._

"_Son of a bitch," Ronnie murmured._

_Javier said nothing just then. He definitely felt the same._

"_What's he doin'?" Ronnie pressed - though his guess was probably right too. "Did they see us?"_

"_No," answered Javier. He was sure on that much. "Nobody saw us. Let's just go."_

_They turned to leave, content to let their minds run away with the factless scenario they'd seen, Ronnie more than Javier. The former was almost bouncing, coming up with everything from a cocaine deal to a clandestine trade of super-secret international spy-kid gadgets. "Man, you see stuff goin' down like that all the time, but it's usually strangers, like older ones, y'know?" _

"_I dunno man. I got a bad feeling. Think we should just stay outta it."_

"_Well yeah, whatchu think I'mma do, get up in his face Monday and ask 'im?" Ronnie snorted a laugh. "I'd rather get a pop quiz from Miss Walters."_

_In their world, that said enough in itself. The boys walked on, and overhead, on went the streetlights._

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**Yep, that bad seed they saw would happen to be Demarco - but **_**no**_**, he doesn't have a beef with Javier over a witnessed drug deal. Just stay tuned, it'll get clearer. ;)**

**Anyone looking to possibly join a free, writing-based Castle RPG forum? Visit my profile and check the paragraph in bold. Anyone enjoy this chapter? **_**Please**_** do leave a review and tell me why. ^^**

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	7. Gathering

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**All right, now we're at chapter seven, so let's launch into some investigative epicness, shall we? Carry on. ^^**

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_Before him, the spread of folders covered the coffee table, and he stared at it for a long time. "This," he sighed to them, to himself, "would be a lot easier if you could talk." Then again, he supposed they could. It all just depended on how closely he could listen. _

-Richard Castle, '_Gathering Storm_'

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The next morning, sunlight broke through the curtains in warm, soft stripes, but Lanie awoke to the sounds of Nina and Rosa Esposito taking the kitchen by force. At least, if the distant clanking of pots and pans was any indication. She smelled bacon, too, and beside her, she felt...nothing. Mattress. The rest of the bed was empty.

Blinking her eyes open, she sat up, and once they adjusted to the light she glanced around curiously for Javier. He wasn't in the room, so Lanie felt it safe to assume that he'd ventured downstairs. With that, she threw off the covers and said a silent 'thanks' that she'd always been decent at navigating her way around new places. A quick expedition revealed that the small bathroom at the end of the hall was unoccupied, and Lanie fished out her bag and ducked in; a quick, hot shower sounded like exactly what she needed.

Ten minutes later, give or take, the newly-mango-fresh M.E. padded quietly back to Javier's old room in her terry-cloth robe, closed the door, and started to towel off. Like always, there was an annoying spot near the middle of her back that Lanie never seemed to be able to conveniently reach. But the floor fan had been left going, and once she'd gotten half dressed, she made use of it, turning to let the air flow reach it for her.

After a moment, she startled as she felt soft cotton touch her back in just the place, guided by a practiced hand. She turned, and there was Javier, dressed already from the waist down and lending her the dry corner of _his_ towel.

She gave him a smile. "Thanks." Accepting it from him, she hung her own over the open windowsill, using the drier one to work on her hair.

He walked around her with a shrug and a wink. "Looked like you could use some help."

"Oh, am I really that incompetent?" she teased.

"Out of context," he corrected, but she could tell his eyes were already busy with something else. "Everybody could use a little help sometimes."

Lanie knew what was on his mind as he said the words, and she was quick to follow him to it. She cleared her throat, coming quietly up behind him to drape the towel back around his shoulders, gratefully kissing his cheek. Then she moved onto business. "So, where do we start?"

"That's what I'm figuring out." Taking two steps away, Javier opened his old closet, and Lanie's eyes widened at what she saw. "This is what I got so far."

On the inside of the closet door was an array of police reports, mugshots, charges both filed and dropped, affixed in all four corners of each page with electrical tape. A pair of sheets detailed the finer points of Marisela Quinones' murder, another pair documenting the murder of someone called Juanté Reyes, and the whole web was interconnected by precise arrows and scribbled notes in dark blue Sharpie.

Before Lanie took in any of the information, she admired his handiwork - and with no small degree of surprise, either. She raised both eyebrows. "You are Beckett."

"Please; I am not Beckett."

"Baby, I hate to break it to you, but this has got 'classic Kate Beckett' written all over it."

"Well, if there's one thing I ever learned from 'er it's that havin' all your information in one place can't hurt," he shrugged.

"So this is what happens when your man and your best friend work together," she mused. "They turn into each other."

"Just doin' what gets the job done." Javier went and sat on the end of his bed, facing the makeshift murderboard, and Lanie joined him, grabbing a blouse from her overnight bag and pulling it over her arms. She would've preferred to put on one of _his_ shirts - his NYPD t-shirt had been a friend of hers for a good long time now - but the last thing Lanie wanted to do was to scar his sisters by wearing it downstairs. Not the best idea.

"When'd you find time to make this?" she asked as she buttoned the blouse up. She looked at him, and he shrugged again.

"Last night. You were asleep. I couldn't."

Concern immediately fell into her features - how could she not know he was awake? - but he dissuaded it with a hand on top of hers. Message sent and received. Lanie adeptly moved on. "Who's the second murder?"

"Juanté Reyes. I tapped into the police blotter this morning; frequency wasn't hard to figure out." Noticing Lanie's impressed look, he explained, "We'd tap into radio transmissions a lot in the S.F. to get ahold of sniper coordinates before the other guys."

She nodded, with a mental note to ask more later. "And he was local too?"

Javier nodded back. "Local kid, nineteen. Said he was found at five-thirty this morning in the back of a parked garbage truck. COD looks the same as Marisela."

Lanie winced. The autopsies she was gonna have to look at were stacking up. "So, we've got another to pin our jackal."

"You got it." She noted something like guilt on Javier's face, but it wasn't stopping him. If anything it was heightening his focus. "The one big argument I see against Demarco bein' guilty is that he's got an alibi for the time of each murder."

"How do you know _that_?"

He shrugged. "Know who to call. People talk."

"Well, but that doesn't mean he's innocent, either."

"No. It doesn't. I've got a feeling I know _exactly_ how he got those alibis; they were bought and paid for. Might be the Jekyll act. Or, could be your basic fear and intimidation."

"The whole…'horse head in the bed' thing."

"More or less."

"So...how do you propose you're gonna prove it?"

Javier's eyes kept themselves glued to the information he'd gathered. "I figure if I can get ahold of Demarco's financials, the records'll indicate what I'm feelin' here. After that, jurisdiction won't matter. It's grounds for an immediate arrest. The whole crew gets shut down, fined, put away, whatever. Game over."

"And Demarco goes away," Lanie finished.

Javier nodded, agreeing in echo. "And Demarco goes away."

She pulled her overnight bag onto her lap, trying halfheartedly to decide between her jeans and her grey skirt, but it was a poor excuse for distraction. Her gaze flicked back up to the closet murderboard, and she bit her lip. Then looked over at him. "You're not considering takin' any of this back to the precinct?"

"No. Wouldn't help." Javier seemed sure of himself.

"How so?"

"That'd automatically mean bringin' in Ryan and Beckett. Plus briefing the Captain. Then we'd have to fight the 23rd Precinct for the rights to investigate both murders. It'd never happen."

"But you _know_ you've got a hell of a lot more resources back at the 12th than you do here."

He lifted one shoulder. "I got what I need to get by. The 12th wouldn't have anything relevant to this area in the records anyway. I got the patrol frequency, I've got pavement to pound; should be plenty."

"So…you're just gonna run a double murder investigation out of your ma's living room," Lanie concluded.

"No, not the living room, that'd be obvious." She was about to roll her eyes and tell him that wasn't her _point_, but he beat her to it, resting a hand on her knee, still staring at the clues he'd gathered. He explained calmly. "We're s'posed to stay here the whole weekend. If we leave early, that's when they'll get suspicious." He nodded toward the doorway, indicating his family downstairs. "The less they know, the better…more importantly, if we leave now, _Demarco_'ll get suspicious. Best way to do this is to go on with the plan and act like nothing's changed."

Damn. He had a point there. Part of her was really starting to get bothered by that.

Good thing she'd decided a long time ago that listening to that part was only going to drive her crazy.

Not that it ever, y'know, _worked_.

"So, then, we're doin' this," she exhaled. Final word. A question and a confirmation. She picked up Javier's hand from her knee, keeping it in her own, and looked his way from the corner of her eye.

He didn't look back. But he did squeeze her hand. "Yep."

And that was that. All other options exhausted. Just the two of them, a known gangster, and a rising body count. Talk about a change in weekend plans.

Javier pulled their entwined hands forward and placed a kiss on the back of hers. Then he detached and stood up, quickly pulling a shirt from his bag and shutting the closet door. "C'mon." He pulled it down over his head as he spoke. "Ma's started breakfast."

And just like that, the switch went from 'Homicide' to 'Domestic' again. With an incredulous smile at his back, Lanie shook her head. Maybe she was gonna need an Advil after all.

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From the moment the two of them stepped into the kitchen, it was as if Nina Esposito _knew_ something. In that scary, sixth 'Mom' sense that only a woman who'd raised four children could really have practiced enough to have honed down to an art. Flipping eggs on the stove, the woman offered a warm smile and a "Good morning, honey" to Lanie, but raised a threatening eyebrow at her son.

"Uh-oh," Lanie mumbled under her breath, heading for the table. She'd made sure no one heard her, but her mind was kicking into overtime, and also kicking itself. _What do you wanna bet she heard me and him talking about the murders - how in the hell could she? What, does she have radar or something? This is not good_. She held her hair back from brushing the table and leaned toward Rosa, whispering, "Any idea why she looks like she's gonna fry him?"

Rosa only raised an eyebrow, but it was a very different kind from her mother's. She smirked into the pages of her morning magazine. "Javier being Javier. Welcome," was all she whispered back.

Oh, boy.

Javier wasn't fazed - or, at least, he didn't _look_ it. He grabbed an apple from the white wicker basket on the counter, catching it once, and kissed his mother on the cheek. "Mornin'."

"Mmmhm," Nina returned, somehow managing to drip a bull-calling tone without even saying anything.

"What?"

"You. I should make you get your own breakfast. What am I going to do with you?"

Across the table, Maria snickered quietly, trying not to as she looked down at her plate. Connie was still in bed, or Lanie strongly suspected she'd have risen some hell of her own. Though the _why_ was a little fuzzy. Javier joined them at the table, sliding onto the chair across from Lanie. "Sorry, I got no idea what you're talkin' about," he said.

Nina crossed to them with the egg pan, sliding a fried one onto Maria's plate. The girl started saying silent grace almost immediately, and Lanie made a mental note to check her back for wings. "Oh, you know."

"I…really don't."

"You know the rules of this house, Javier."

"Yeah…"

"And of what goes _on_ in it." Suddenly, that eyebrow was mighty powerful.

…_Oh._ Lanie unconsciously fidgeted in her chair a little bit, glaring pointedly at her boyfriend. _She is talking about us last night, you idiot_. There was no sanctuary in Rosa, who looked ready to sell this moment to the five o'clock news.

Instantly he shot back a '_Don't gimme that look!_' face, unnoticed by Nina. He tried to cover. "Whoa, hey, Ma, I…what makes you think that anyb-?"

"Javier. You're a lot of things - dumb is not one of them? Do not lie to your mother."

Well _that_ killed his argument. He glanced away; anywhere else was good, really. Some unintelligible mumble came out of his mouth. A canary-eating grin escaped from Rosa. Poor Maria just looked like she wanted to take her eggs and go turn pink somewhere else.

Shooting him another glare, Lanie figured she better take up a little space, here. She turned to Nina, apologetic. "Mrs. Esposito, I am…_really_ sorry about that…I…didn't know there w - "

"Oh, nonsense," the older woman waved off. _Well. Talk about surprises_. "You have nothing to apologize for, honey, don't even think about it."

"…'Kay?"

"_Javier_ knows the rules under my roof, and I can only assume _Javier_ decided to flirt with his health regardless. _Javier _knows that just because he doesn't live here, doesn't mean I can't always have his father remove his bedroom door from the hinges and hide it somewhere. Isn't that right, _Javier_?" she smirked.

Ooh. The woman was good. Lanie was somewhere between laughing and embarrassment herself, now that it was pretty clear the only one getting blamed was _Javier_ over there - who, by the way, winced every time she said his name like that. Maria giggled.

"…_Pido perdón, mamá. No pasará otra vez_."

Nina crawled that eyebrow a little further.

He sighed. "_Realmente esta vez_."

"Good." Satisfied, she patted her son's shoulder and moved back to the stove. "Now, Lanie. How do you like your eggs?" she offered brightly.

Just kept improving that first impression all the time.

The smirks and shame simmered down to forgotten levels, and soon enough the little family-plus-one was all seated around the little kitchen table, chewing companionably on breakfast and discussing whatever came to mind. Everything, notably, except the one topic whose absence in this house was consistent. Javier shared a glance with her across the table, right when she'd been thinking about it, but they said nothing. They didn't have to.

In all other ways, the meal was a functional repeat of supper the night before. Rosa supplied what she did for a living - she was the day manager at a J Crew store uptown, but spent her off-time trying to break in as a party planner. Maria chimed in to say that she worked part-time as a waitress at Café Lalo and that Lanie simply _had_ to come by and try the Hazelnut Mousse Cake. Lanie promised she would. Connie, who dragged her sleep-mussed self to the table after another twenty minutes, only responded to the topic with an "Ughhh," so Nina smiled and supplied that her third child and second daughter was currently between desired jobs, answering phones at a BMR Realty branch in Brooklyn.

"Serves 'er right; couldn't get off the phone all through high school," Javier cracked.

Connie pelted him with a mini-muffin.

If there was one thing to learn by spending any amount of time in this house, it was that it was never short on conversation. Clearly, 'family' was the notion that held them together, and however far and wide they scattered into their own lives - and how different they became as adults - this place was always the one where they found each other again. Cliché, maybe, but the ties that bound were in the air here, and you didn't need an investigative diploma to feel it.

Another puzzle piece fell into the place. Not of the case, but of Javier. Now she got where he got his kindness, and most definitely his protective side. There was a hell of a lot to protect here. She'd fight for it too.

It dawned on her then that she actually was about to begin to.

Looking around at the five of them, the M.E. caught and diagnosed an unfamiliar hope. She _really_ didn't want to let them down.

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**That concludes our seventh update; some more case stuff and family stuff, as promised. The next chapter will probably be mostly case stuff, including the introduction of some new OCs, like the Chief Medical Examiner of the 23****rd**** precinct that I'm about to totally make up. XD A lot of other stuff in this story is real and verified, though, like Café Lalo, J Crew and BMR Realty, for example. I may or may not have Google Maps'd "shops/companies in New York." ;D**

**As always: got a hankering to roleplay on a writing-based RPG forum that's all about Castle? Just visit my profile and take a look at the paragraph in bold. 12P awaits. ;)**

**I'm aware that this story isn't Caskett, so for a lot of you it's probably not your cup of tea. But for those of you who ARE reading (like castlelover100 and princessozmaofoz, for example), I'd just like to thank you for your interest. I write because that's just what I **_**do**_**, but I publish for **_**you**_** guys. So thanks. ^^ And if you'd feel so inclined as to leave a review, I'd love that as well. Your reviews really do make my day; I love knowing what you guys think or your favorite parts or stuff like that. ^^**

**There is most definitely more to come. Stay tuned. :D**

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	8. Gathering, pt II

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**Sorry for the delay on this one, guys. I've been trying to keep to a schedule of one new chapter every three days, and I've done it until now. But this time I was all out of pre-written bits, and I was busy and something had to give. On the bright side, this author's note was actually written in the car on the way to Paul McCartney's Detroit concert! Rejoice. ^^ And now on with the show.**

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_At first, it was hard to hide his disappointment; he'd played games of poker more revealing than this conversation. And then, that easily, the connection clicked. They weren't so different. It wasn't about probing in empty space toward answers that would neatly fit the puzzle. All he had to do was read her hand - and the puzzle solved itself. _

-Richard Castle, '_Gathering Storm_'

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After breakfast, the Esposito family more or less dispersed. Rosa planned to spend the morning organizing a retirement party over her Bluetooth, Connie presumably went back to bed, and Maria bounced out the door to cover a four-hour waitressing shift for a sick friend. The patriarch of the Espositos left early to open the autobody/repair shop he managed - "Carlos never considered retirement; I think it would drive him crazy," Nina had explained - and Nina herself was busy cleaning up the dishes, refusing Lanie's offer to help before her mouth opened. "You and Javier go enjoy yourselves," she'd insisted, "You both deserve it."

Javier had quickly jumped on the opening. "Yeah, think I'm gonna show Lanie around a little; maybe we'll hit Tomas' place for lunch or somethin.' Prob'ly be out most of the afternoon."

"As long as you're coming back for supper, yes? I don't cook for my health."

"Ma, you use real butter by the jug. You don't cook for _anyone's_ health." He'd stepped over and bent to kiss his mother's cheek. "We'll be back, I promise."

"All right. Have fun, then. Preferably the kind you can tell me all about when you get back."

Lanie wasn't sure about that one.

But at least getting away hadn't been difficult. After a quick trip back up to his room so that each of them could snap a few pictures of the murder-closet on their phones, they'd ended up here, conferencing at the front door, if you could call it that. Lanie smoothed down her grey skirt, mentally thanking herself for ignoring Kate about the beige one, and also for thinking to bring her medical I.D, now in her pocket, waiting to be clipped on. Sometimes it just paid to plan for the unexpected.

Javier worked on buttoning a collared shirt over his t-shirt, working from the bottom up. "I got a few places I can think to hit first. Figure I'll start there and see if somethin' kicks." He met her eyes. "You're goin' straight to the M.E.'s?"

She gave a nod, reaching over to stop him threading a tie through his collar. "No tie. You look official."

"Bond wore a tie when he went rogue."

"Honey, you are _not_ James Bond."

"I could be. About time for a Latino Bond."

"Well you be sure to call Hollywood and tell 'em that while Demarco's got you strapped to the grill of a subway train."

"All right, so no tie." Javier took it from her and stuffed the balled-up thing into his jacket pocket.

"And yes, I'm goin' straight to the M.E.'s."

"I was thinkin'," Javier mused. "Maybe you shouldn't do this as you."

Lanie raised an eyebrow at him. "Good in theory, but kind of hard to make an alias work when my I.D. says 'Dr. Parish' on it."

"I don't mean there, I just mean on the streets or wherever. 'Case anybody asks you who you are."

"…Because Demarco's boys would know to look for somebody named Parish," she connected.

"Exactly."

Her eyes flicked over to him; he was the detective, after all. "Got any ideas?"

Javier didn't hesitate. "Elena Torres. Close enough to your real name to remember offhand, but not so close they'd know the difference. Should anyone ask, you're half-Cuban, you were brought up in south-side D.C. and you're here visiting your cousin Jamal. Nobody'll ask who Jamal is; we all know at least two."

"…Wow." Lanie blinked a few times. "You've really thought about this, haven't you."

He shrugged. "Couple years as a cop, you learn the better the lie, the better the alibi. Airtight details help."

"I'm not sure whether to be turned on or frightened right now."

"Be the second one now and save the first one for after we get through this." He checked his remaining pockets for his badge, felt to make sure his gun was completely concealed by his shirt at the back of his waistband, and leaned in to give Lanie a brief kiss. It troubled her that he aimed for her cheek, and she pulled away before he made it.

The look on his face held some confusion over that, but Lanie saw what else was there. His mind was already in a hundred different places over this, and he was nervous. He'd never say it, but he was. She brought a hand up to rest lightly along his cheek, and memorized the stress in his eyes for a moment before she guided his mouth onto hers.

Worry, she understood. That was why she was damn well gonna do this right.

He seemed grateful for that much, just by the way he reciprocated. They kept it short - they didn't need anything else - and he pulled away. She let him go. "Good luck," he said.

She bobbed her head once, taking a subtle breath. "You too. Let's do this."

Javier already had a hand on the doorknob, opened it, and nodded an 'after you.'

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Half-truths were everywhere. For one, Javier hadn't been lying when he'd said he knew a few places to go. He'd simply left out the part about knowing just where to go first.

Details could end a body as quick as they could save it.

To the untrained eye - the eyes of anyone who'd grown up here, for that matter - there was nothing out-of-place about his first visit of the day. It could've been just that; a social call. As he guided the car up to the curb and turned into the small complex's driveway, Javier was grateful for that much. Any veil was a veil; even the Wizard did his life's work behind a curtain.

And the place might as well have been Oz. Even though he'd been here twice before, he'd still had to confirm the address on his phone. It happened that way when you'd mostly fallen out-of-touch. Wasting no time, he got out of his car, shut the door with a _thump_, and made his way to the second-floor walkup of the tan house that rented by the room.

Two knocks did the trick. The man who opened the door looked somewhat like a recovering drunk: a loose shirt, buttoned wrong; lazy Bermuda khakis; five-o'clock shadow at eleven in the morning. His long, narrow face looked sallow, and his short hair was spiked and rumpled in more than one unintentional direction. When he saw his old friend, his jaw fell. He blinked several times before removing the chain and stepping aside.

"Javier - man, whatchu doin' here?"

"Ronnie." Javier nodded once, made good time into the apartment, and looked quickly around, waiting until the door was shut to exchange handshakes and back-claps with the man he'd barely seen since graduation day. "You look like a bum, man."

"Your sincerity is truly beautiful. But hey, thanks for answerin' my question so readily." Ronnie Vreeland had always been a man with a sideways sense of humor. He glanced at Javier, walking to the kitchen. "You want a beer?"

"No. You want a clock?"

"Man, I know what time it is. You offer company beer. You don't live here; that makes you company."

"Yeah, well, I'll pass. Thanks." The detective took a short walk around the living/kitchen area of the rented room, taking in this and that. No signs of a girlfriend; there was a notable lack of women's clothes, products or decorative traces. Not many signs he'd fallen off the wagon too bad again, either, unless he'd gotten rid of it all; just a single empty case of Sam Adams by the door, the contents of which he figured were in the fridge. Nothing jumped out at him as out-of-the-ordinary.

Apparently, he was giving that vibe to Ronnie. The latter man sent him a wary, confused stare. "…A'right, what're you lookin' for."

This was one place where Javier trusted he could get right to the point. So he did. He took a few steps nearer the counter island. "I want you to look me in the eye - "

"_Ay, Dios_, here it goes."

" - I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that you haven't been back involved with Demarco."

"Whoa. Whoa." Ronnie held up both palms. "I was thinkin' more along the lines of the 'A.A.' question."

"Blast yourself, don't; I quit tryin' to monitor you a long time ago."

"Ouch."

"That's not what I'm askin'. I want you to tell me you haven't been in contact with Demarco, and I want it to be the truth. You know I'll find out if it's not."

"Are you _arrestin_' me, bro?"

"No. Just answer the question."

"_No_. Of _course_ I haven't. I haven't said two words to the guy in years. A'ight?"

"Is that the truth?"

"You're armed, man. I'm a bum, not a dumbass. _Yeah_ it's the truth." Javier nodded twice and visibly exhaled, and, giving him a weird look, Ronnie opened the fridge, sliding him a cold beer anyway. Javier nudged it right back, taking a barstool. "You at least gotta fill me in the blanks," Ronnie bargained.

"You won't like it."

"Hey, you come in here _two years_ since the last time you stopped by, askin' if I'm fundin' my mansion here through _El Psicópata_. I think I'm entitled to some freaky explanations."

Javier exhaled, part of him wishing he could've accepted the beer in good conscience. He rested his elbows on the countertop, rubbing his hands together. "Fine, but look, once I tell you this, you gotta get outta here. I mean it, man. If you _really mean_ that you're not involved up in this, then you gotta go. Get out before you _are_ involved."

"Damn - hey, not like I got ties here anyway. So hit me."

"You heard about Marisela Quinones, right?"

"Yeah." Ronnie made a slashing motion with his index finger across his throat, and Javier gave him a flat look, suddenly feeling like Beckett. Ronnie stopped, clearing his throat. "Sorry."

"She's not the only one anymore. It'll hit the news in a few hours; don't ask how I know. Juanté Reyes is dead too."

Ronnie's eyes widened dramatically. "…Nuh-uh."

"Yeah."

"Didn't they both…?"

Javier bobbed his head. "Yeah. They did." Then he gave Ronnie a loaded look. "Now you see why you best get out of here?"

"Sure, but won't that look suspicious on _my_ end?"

"The cops here aren't lookin' at these murders as a gang crime. They were both staged as random pop-and-drops. And if what you said's the truth, then your Statute of Limitations is up. Just…look, just take a vacation. Call it that. Go to Jersey - "

"Damn; why not just hide in the bathroom."

" - then go to Disney World, get your ass back to Puerto Rico, I don't care. You're on that same list, you hear me? He's cuttin' out _talking risks_. Don't know why he's doin' it _now_, but that's my gut. And from what I remember, you got a lot to talk about," Javier warned.

Ronnie took a step back, palms raised again in surrender. "Hey, man, fine, consider me all packed."

Javier stood up. "Good." For a moment, he let himself study the man he'd once known as an eight-year-old.

Ronnie caught on. "Hey. Listen," he said disarmingly. "I swear. I'm clean. Even usually sober. Mostly. I got messed-up as a kid, you know that. I don't deal that crap anymore. It's been a long time."

The words sank in like they were intended, and Javier let himself nod, maybe even letting himself believe. One thing he had to correct, though. "You didn't _get_ messed up, Ronnie; you _let_ what happened mess you up."

He sighed. "I know. I know."

"We were _all_ jacked after that; you let Demarco feed on you."

"I _know_ - did I not just say 'I know?'" Ronnie dragged a tired hand down his face. "I handled it wrong. Not everybody finds their vice at a recruiting table. Let me ask _you_: how many times you put down a gun since high school?"

That question led to a box in Javier's mind that he'd spent years keeping deftly locked away. He knew _exactly_ what to take from the implication. Some people hid their demons behind petty substances, however they could get ahold of them; even good people like Ronnie. Some healed, and some didn't. People like Javier, they hid theirs behind the fight, until the lines blurred as to what they'd ever started fighting for.

Javier was too far involved to ask that question anymore. He shut it down.

"Not enough," was what he replied, and for the first time, he registered that it felt like the truth. Giving his old friend a nod, he said, "It's good to see you. Take care of yourself." And he let himself out the door.

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_They asked the question of a tree falling in the forest that day. It was Mrs. Lopez's seventh-grade homeroom, and she had an annoying habit of starting the morning off with seventh-grade-sized doses of philosophy. _

_In the coming hours, days and weeks, he discovered that the newsstands worked a lot like that. Every newspaper he passed made him want to rip it to shreds. He'd even done it once, flying into hysterics as they passed the vendor. A panic attack, his mother had called it. She'd had to pay for the papers, something Javier felt guilty for later on. Then again, not _that_ guilty. He'd been forced to bring it up to the therapist. He'd been forced to _go_ to the therapist. Thirteen-year-olds shouldn't have to see any therapists. He would've rather been at a ball game. Instead, he was forced to think about the question. The one about the tree._

_Things like this happened in places like Colorado, and it was all over the news in minutes. From local to national to worldwide, within hours, like pinball. Yet when something like this happened in a place like New York - El Barrio, East Harlem, no less - it barely scraped into the tri-state blotter, let alone the news on TV, and forget about the _New York Times_. It didn't make it any less devastating. It just made it New York, where evil went unheard, unseen._

_Every time he sat in that ridiculous chair, Javier was forced to think about it. Eleven people had been hit that day, four of them fatal, not including the kid who turned the gun on himself in the end. One of the dead was a math teacher. Another, he'd played basketball with after school. All of this, one hallway away. Five rooms from where he'd been. All things he was forced to talk about, just because he'd torn up a newspaper. _

_He wasn't sorry. All he could feel about it was anger. The press didn't care. The cops didn't care._

_The tree question hung in his mind. Javier couldn't help but think that the answer, painted hauntingly on the local families' stricken faces, was yes. The fallen tree most definitely makes a sound, even in a city so deafening. The single headline was loud enough for all of them._

11 INJURED, 5 DEAD IN STUDENT SHOOTING AT PS96

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**Yeah, I just keep making Javier's backstory more tortured, don't I? XD I promise, it will all connect at some point. Guess you'll have to keep reading to see how that happens. ;) You guys liked the last flashback, and I did promise they'd be somewhat recurring, so I hope that one was illuminating. (Kudos if you recognized Ronnie from the first one.) And to clarify: YES, Javier and Ronnie both attended PS96 (a real middle school in East Harlem, I looked it up), but neither were shot or injured. The shooter wasn't Demarco, either, conspiracy theorists, because the shooter is dead. XP I know it's kind of a heavy topic, but I always wondered what Esposito's motives for joining the force(s) were. Beckett has her mom's death, and Esposito has this. Like I said: more illumination to come.**

**Business as usual: anyone want to join a Castle-based RPG forum? Stop by my profile and read the paragraph in bold. Also, special thanks this time go to Cate and castlefan404. Thank you guys, you're awesome! ^_^**

**I adore reviews more than I adore mac & cheese. And that's a lot. So please share your thoughts? ^^ More is coming, and I SHOULD hopefully be back to my schedule now. Fingers crossed.**

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	9. Break

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**I figure it's been a while, so, if anyone's wondering about my lack of an "I don't own this" disclaimer, go back to the first chapter. I covered it. (Besides, I **_**do**_** own **_**some**_** of this, just not the familiar bits. XD ) And anyway, I'm not rich. There's your sign, storyfolk.**

**Enjoy chapter nine.**

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_He always took a moment to build up before these visits. Sometimes he would walk; other times, he found himself lingering in the driver's side of his car, the windshield wipers running long after he'd killed the engine. Sometimes it was in honor of the dead; other times, it was as simple as clearing his mind for whatever may come. This time, it might've been a little of both. _

-Richard Castle, '_Storm's Break_'

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Lanie walked into the East Harlem OCME convincing herself that it was just like any other. It didn't take a lot: the interior really did look almost exactly like her usual workplace, other than maybe being three or four years behind in renovations. The paint was a bit more faded, the tiles worn a little smoother in some places. Other than that, the similarities were _almost_ enough to make her forget that this wasn't a normal workday.

_Almost_. Not quite.

Before she'd even crossed the lobby, she had discreetly reached into her coat pocket and swiftly clipped her medical I.D. to her lapel. That was going to be her cloak today. She flashed it at the receptionist and continued down the long, white hallway without breaking stride.

At the end of the hall was another reception desk, a smaller one with lots of charts behind it, and Lanie knew that this was where she'd get her information, or at least get started. Only M.E.s and identifying family would be allowed this far.

"Excuse me." She flashed an irrefutable smile, then pinched her I.D. tag and held it out. "Dr. Parish; I work mainly with the 12th precinct across town."

The medical assistant looked up from his monitor. He was obviously new - possibly an intern, even - because he was practically shaking with the need for human contact. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, squinting as he compared her I.D. photo to her face. "Yes. Well. Hi," he stammered out. "What can I do for you?"

Lanie kept her lie direct. "I was talking with a friend of mine, also in the medical field here, and he mentioned the causes of death for two bodies in particular looked a lot like a stiff I've got uptown. I was hoping to compare it for myself."

"Ah. Right." The assistant turned around and plucked a clipboard from a slot in the wall, flipping through the pages. "Let's check the guest list," he joked meekly, then cleared his throat. "Names of the deceased you're looking for?"

"Juanté Reyes and Marisela Quinones."

"Reyes, Quinones, Reyes, Quinones... Ah. Right here." He jabbed the page with his index finger. "Both are in the fine custody of Dr. Taggart, autopsy suite five."

"Just down this hall?"

"Just down this hall. Third door on your right," he supplied.

Lanie's next smile for the kid was only fifty percent acting. _Good. Both bodies in one place makes my job a lot easier._ She decided to give his ego a pat in reward. "Thank you _so_ much, Dr…?"

It worked like a charm; he flushed from the neck up. "Oh. I-I'm not a doctor. Or, not a medical examiner, not, not yet. I'm still an M.A. But, Evan. Er, last name, right - Hillman."

"Well thank you, Evan." _Yep, I may be taken but still got it_. "Keep up the good work; who knows, you might see your first autopsy." On that note, Lanie gave him a wink goodbye and started down the hall, counting the doors she passed. She thought she heard M.A. Hillman whip out an inhaler back there, but she wasn't sure.

There was a standard bin of fresh smocks and gloves outside the door, and Lanie helped herself to each, making sure her clothes were covered and re-clipping her I.D. in plain sight. Then she took a breath, muttered "Here goes," and leaned on the one of the heavy double-doors.

No sooner was she inside the autopsy room than a voice called out to meet her. "Animal, vegetable or mineral?"

Lanie thought about it. "Inquiry," she said instead.

That got his attention. The voice belonged to a pale, spry-looking man, about her height, who Lanie ballparked as being maybe in his mid-fifties. Mid-forties at the youngest. He looked up from the victim he was examining, and his Eastern-shaped eyes had a little glint in them, as if everything was fascinating. He considered her for a moment, then spoke. "Dr. Taggart."

"Dr. Parish," she introduced back, wandering closer to the table.

"A pleasure…can I help you, Dr. Parish? Assuming you're a medical examiner. I'm afraid we don't get much call for brain surgeons down here."

She chuckled appreciatively. "Yes, I'm a medical examiner. I've already done this dance with your boy Hillman out there."

"My…? Ah, yes. Evan. He's…he's getting there."

"He's sweet. But that's not why I came all the way back here."

Dr. Taggart gave a knowing half-grin. Almost paternal, if you asked her. "So I assumed."

"In that case, yes, you can help me." Lanie had crafted her explanation for this on the walk over - during which, she'd had to introduce herself as Elena Torres _twice_, by the way. Both times, things had gone without a hitch, and she was silently priding herself on the ability to keep up with all this. _You'd be good undercover_, she thought to herself. After all, she was essentially undercover _now_. "I'm doing a little bit of a job-study."

"Ah; refreshing your job-training? Seeing how another doctor of experience follows process?"

"Something like that. Anyway, I was passing through the area and I heard about the two recent murders in the paper. I figured I'd start there. With your permission, I'd like to take a look at the bodies and talk about your evaluations."

Her senior examiner gave a laugh, but it wasn't an insulting one. More toward incredulous; even amused. Obviously, this wasn't the kind of request he got every day. "Well! I certainly can't say you hear _that_ every day." _Yep, right on the money; what'd I tell you._ "So, you want to…_assist_ me with my examinations of Ms. Quinones and Mr. Reyes…is my understanding correct?"

Lanie nodded once. "Yes." Her face revealed nothing, but she _really_ hoped the answer was going to be 'yes.' Getting kicked out of here after all of this would suck.

The worry was unfounded. Dr. Taggart rubbed his latex-gloved hands together. "Well, good, you're already wearing a smock; that saves us some time. I was just about to start on Mr. Reyes here."

Taggart waved a hand ceremoniously at the body on his slab, and Lanie realized she was already looking at one of her victims…yet she couldn't help but smile a little anyway. Just for a millisecond. She was in.

Now _this_, she knew how to do.

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The light turned red, and Javier cursed at it in three languages under his breath, the third being a rough Farsi in which he only knew three or four sentences. You'd think he'd be a little better than that after _actually being in_ Afghanistan, but this was a _traffic_ light. He wasn't going for gold-standard.

Holding down the brake, he gently nursed the gas pedal a few times, giving the engine a couple of low revs to put his mind on. Not that it worked. So, Ronnie was clean. So he said, anyway. Javier had learned a long time ago to keep his old pal's state of affairs at a distance. You couldn't save everyone.

Still, there was trust in there. Somehow. It was battered a little bit, but it'd survived solid enough - and it meant that Ronnie had nothing to do with the murders. And if he had a speck of good sense left, he'd get his crap together and be out of El Barrio by nightfall. Old mistakes like Ronnie Vreeland's could cost you for a long time. But his were already paid, and they weren't worth dying for.

Trying _not_ to get disproportionately angry at this stop light, Javier picked up his phone from the passenger seat where he'd tossed it. 11:46 A.M, and no new texts, no missed calls. Lanie must've still been in autopsy.

Finally, red turned to green. Javier let up on the brake pedal and drove the car another block straight before taking a right at the next intersection. The easy part was done with. He had a hell of a lot of witness statements to get and limited time to get 'em. Even less if you weeded through all the shooting-the-breeze he was gonna have to do.

This 'rogue' thing was starting to feel more and more like a maze - and he, like the rat.

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"And these are the exact shells you pulled out of Marisela."

"Mm-hm. All four from the same gun; identical. There is no doubt that her death was caused by a single assailant, or at least a single weapon."

Dr. Taggart snapped another bite out of his apple, standing against the far wall with his ankles crossed leisurely over each other. He'd given complete reins to Lanie not long after the start of Juanté Reyes' autopsy; never mind 'observation.' Her interest was too deep-vested for him not to sit back and watch her go at it. At the moment, she was holding a labeled baggie of bullets in one hand, carefully tweezing a bloodied one with the other.

Switching her glance between them, she studied the one from Juanté's body more closely. "These look like the same metal. And they're both five millimeter."

Taggart rotated his apple, examining the unbitten skin, raising an eyebrow. "Do you have reason to believe their incidents were connected?"

_Uh-oh_. Lanie had come in here under at least three slightly-varied covers, and she wasn't about to blow any of them now. She thought quickly, settling on an answer that satisfied her. "No, not prior. But two bodies with the same slugs tends to open that door of possibility; wouldn't you agree?"

"You're a shrewd one, Dr. Parish." _Phew_. Taggart stepped off the wall and made his way back to the table, replacing his gloves. "It does, and I would not rule it out."

"So, we start looking for other connections." She was saying it more to herself than to Dr. Taggart. Javier needed viable proof out there - whatever he was _doing_ out there. She certainly hoped there was still a Javier by the time she finished here.

"Well." Taggart picked up a scalpel and used it a few millimeters above the body, as an indicating device. "We can see there's no coherent rhyme or reason to the patterns left by the entry wounds," he pointed out. "No gang sign, symbols of any sort; at least nothing detectable. The killer's aim was random, but meant to be fatal. That much we know."

"What about Quinones? Were hers in any kind of pattern?"

"No, I'm afraid not - that might come a bit too close to making our job easy, wouldn't it." He half-smiled to that. "Though if these bullets are as close a match as they look, that may do the trick."

Lanie hoped so, for a whole lot of people's sakes. But that wasn't enough to solve this case in time; the test results on the metal wouldn't come back for days, and until then, the similarity was conjecture. She was getting to hate that word. There had to be something else.

Still leaning over the male vic's body, she looked up at Dr. Taggart. "I'd like to take a closer look at Ms. Quinones. Which drawer?"

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"Javier! Man, how long you been back? Why din't you look me up?"

Hector 'Money' Moreno. If anyone was in Demarco's back pocket, it would be this guy; prime example of another good kid wasted. The detective accepted a bro-hug from the man with a grain of salt, his mind on business. His lie was well-rehearsed, and it came effortlessly.

"I woulda, man, but I got in late Thursday - tried to scare up the crew again last night and you _still_ weren't around; what you been up to?"

"'Ey, you know how it is, me and the boys been hittin' it up at the club, know what I mean? Don't never stand still, brotha."

Moreno laughed. Esposito took a snap of that photographic memory. _Demarco's alibi_.

He kept up appearances, never dropping the act. "Yeah, I know what you're sayin'," he laughed back. _Tellin' me a dirty lie to my face, but we'll get to that later._ "Hey, I gotta bet back to my folks' place pretty quick here, but we'll catch up 'fore I go."

"I'mma hold you to that."

"I promise. I'll catch you." _And cuff the pack of you like the dirt you are._

"A'ight, cool. Take care, man."

"Yeah, you too." Esposito bumped fists with Moreno, nodded goodbye, and turned and walked down the center street of the city. He was glad he'd left the car parked at the meter a few blocks back: the quicker people recognized him, the faster this would go. Hector Moreno had been Exhibit A. As long as he made it look like he was just out for a walk, just catching up with old buddies, Demarco wouldn't be able to say a damn _thing_.

Well…all right, he probably would. But that was between them.

The lucky thing about this neighborhood's downside - everyone knew each other - was that everyone knew each other. Javier had momentarily forgotten he could use that to his advantage. Half a block ahead, his next opportunity presented itself: people-watching over a _Time Magazine_ at an outdoor table was a slick-haried Dom Herrera. He'd know the profile anywhere.

Herrera was one of Javier's father's old trade-school buddies, and what's more: Herrera owned and operated one of the area's most underground nightclubs. Anyone who'd grown up with their generation here could tell you that Demarco and crew frequented the spot, and would never touch anyplace else. In front of him was a jackpot, and all he had to do was play it right.

Covert was his specialty. He walked by at a stroller's pace, pretending not to be too interested in much of anything around him. But he made sure he passed close enough by the table, and his head played a victory march when he heard Herrera put the magazine down. "Javier? Little Javier Esposito?"

Answering the man's laugh with an act of surprise, Javier spun around, heading back toward the table for a handshake. "Not so little anymore, Dom."

"True. Just look at you," Herrera chuckled. "Sit, please. I'm getting old, I could use the company."

Javier did. "It's good to see you. How've you been?"

"Eh, some good, some bad."

"Yeah? How bad?"

Then it hit. It was inexplicable; a gut thing. This was about to be one of those moments.

"Business is slow," said Herrera. "I haven't seen any of my regulars for at least two weeks."

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"All right, it seems we've found nothing similar in the wound pattern, nothing that stands out particularly other than the general appearance of the bullets…I'm afraid I'm out of ideas."

Lanie didn't need Taggart to tell her that. She kind of figured. Still, that didn't mean she was giving up. "I'm just…I _really_ have a feeling about this…_theory_," she covered, exhaling heavily. "If we could just…"

Dr. Taggart waited a moment, then arched one eyebrow in prompt. "Just…?"

_Oh, for God's sake._ She really didn't know anymore.

And then her eyes lit up.

"_Trajectory_," she said all of a sudden. Lanie whirled on her fellow M.E. "When you took the bullets out of Marisela, you measured each angle from the entry wound to the slug, am I right?"

"Well, yes, of course."

"Notice anything?"

Taggart walked around her to the table that bore the female vic's body, hitching onto the bandwagon. "Come to think of it, yes: each bullet looked to have entered at a slight angle, almost as if the gun were held cocked, or sideways."

Quickly, Lanie took a tool from the medical tray and slid it with the utmost caution into one of Juanté Reyes' bullet wounds, following the path carved by the initial entry. When she'd gone far enough, she stopped, her eyes meeting Taggart's. And she grinned, damn it all.

"That look about the same to you?"

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**I figured it was about time for a break in the case (I didn't use '**_**Storm's **__**Break**_**' on this chapter for nothing), but just wait. ;D I'm no doctor, so please just forgive any minor indiscretions? Also, the M.A, Evan Hillman, was kind of inspired by NCIS' Jimmy Palmer, so, have fun with that. XD**

**14 or over? Wanna join a Castle RP forum? Go read the bold in my profile. You'll be glad you did. ;)**

**So. Thoughts? Favorite part? Wondering what's gonna happen next? Reviews are made of love. ^^**

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	10. Break, pt II

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**Chapter ten, ready to go. Huge thanks to the people who are still reading this, since I know that not tons of you were in the **_**first**_** place. XD My few reviewers? You are wonderful. And now on with the show. Get ready. ;)**

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_Fate had been kind this far, or if not fate, then good-old-fashioned luck. All the clues had more or less fallen in his lap… It all began to feel too easy, and he reminded himself to stay vigilant. The very moment he relaxed his guard, any failure to watch his back, would be the moment someone would aim for it. Basic training: there was no such thing as 'in the clear.' _

-Richard Castle, '_Storm's Break_'

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Once the bodies were stitched back up, her gloves had barely hit the disposal bin before her phone was in hand, thumbs rapidly texting like some dopey teenager at Bonnaroo.

_Got the dirt, & ur gonna love this - pick me up when ur ready. -L_

"I take it you've gotten all the…'on-hand experience' you need, Dr. Parish?"

She looked over to find the senior examiner smiling at her, almost as if he'd never bought the 'shadowing' story in the first place. For her own peace of mind, Lanie chose not to believe that one. Offered him a smile back, though. "For today, yeah, I think that's all I need. I've learned a lot." At least _that_ much was true.

The doctor waved dismissively. "If that's the case, then you've made my day much more interesting. I've picked up a few things myself; for instance, never to block your lighting," he smirked.

What could she say? She was an assertive person. And proud of it, thank you. Her smile turned humble. "Thank you for allowing me to assist here, Dr. Taggart. It's been a real pleasure to meet you."

"Please." He held up a palm. "My friends call me Harry."

"Well." Pausing in the doorway, Lanie nodded at her colleague in respect. "Appreciate the help, Harry."

"The pleasure's all mine," he nodded back, and with a push of the bar, Lanie was beyond the double-doors, once again on the side of the living.

"Find what you were looking for?" she heard M.A. Hillman call as she passed his desk.

Lanie didn't turn around, just kept walking. But she did throw him a grin for his troubles over her shoulder. "I think I can say I did. Have a good one."

"Ah. Uh, you too."

He stammered something else, probably, but she didn't hear it. She was already outside the building again, stepping into the harsh, smoggy sunlight of the midday, tucking her medical I.D. back into her skirt pocket. From about a block down, she saw a familiar champagne Ford four-door pull onto the street, and in another few seconds, the car slid up to the curb.

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Call it lucky timing. He'd gotten her text at a stoplight, having just enough time to read it before the green said 'go' and he quickly switched the direction of his blinker. If that pissed off the person behind him in traffic…well, he really didn't care. He'd just gotten his first lead, and if Lanie's news was as good as she'd said, he'd love to be two-for-two.

"What'd you get?" was the first thing he said, soon as she slid into the passenger seat and shut the door.

Lanie must've been psyched about her find, because she didn't even give him a 'look' for greeting her with a question, or in English for that matter. He'd been half-expecting her to for a second there, but she launched right into it, her eyes locked on him and packed with subtext. "You will not believe this. Not only do the slugs pulled outta both victims look almost _identical_ to the naked eye, but _both_ sets of bullets were fired at an angle. The angle of the weapon affects the trajectory of the bullet when it enters a body."

"Yeah, I know that."

"So you know that there's almost a hundred-percent chance that those slugs? Were fired from the same weapon. Almost without a doubt, even though it's gonna take a while for the lab here to make sure the metals and calibers are an exact match," she grinned.

He did too, and started to ease the car away from the curb. "So the gun was cocked. On both," he summarized. And, much as he wished he could erase the image, he'd definitely seen Demarco hold a gun before…almost sideways. 'Too cool for school.' Sounded like a match to him.

"Sure was. I'm not too worried about the test results. Somethin' tells me they'll line up."

"You are a lifesaver, _chica_."

"Mm-hm, I try." Lanie settled victoriously into her seat a bit more, then turned her head toward him again, eyes ravenous for information. "Flatter me later - what about you? Where've you been all morning?"

"'Round half the borough. Ruled a couple people out, worked on the timeline."

"And?"

Lanie's impatience was not only cool of her - hey, she didn't _have_ to be invested in this - but also kind of adorable. Not that, y'know, he'd _say_ that or anything. Javier tried not to grin again, given that they were discussing serious business after all, but he couldn't help it. They were getting good at this whole 'rogue' thing, and he had a kicker stored up. He adjusted his grip on the wheel. "_And_, Demarco's alibi was that he was supposedly at a club the nights of both murders. Except for one thing: I ran into the _owner_ of Demarco's little hotspot. He and his boys haven't hit the place in _weeks_."

"So he's caught in a lie," Lanie finished.

"Dead-to-rights."

"Now, call me new at this 'detective' thing, but does that mean we got 'im?"

_God, if only. Be nice if it were that easy._ "We're close," Javier allowed, turning the car left at a crosswalk. "All we've proven right now is that Juanté and Marisela were killed by the same person. And that Demarco wasn't where his boys are sayin' he was. What we gotta do _now_ is find somethin' that'll put the two together. We need to prove that _he_ was that person."

"So we're only halfway there."

"Yeah, well the good news is we got here in the first place."

"I s'pose that's true," she consented. All was quiet in the car for a few moments; Javier was vaguely aware of Lanie watching the buildings pass by the window, and he let his own thoughts roam. No, scratch that; he didn't let his thoughts roam at all. Roaming would have meant unlocking the box. Better to keep a tight leash on them; get things done. Thoughts could be dangerous when you turned the scope around.

Then she looked at him, bringing him back with a question. "Where are we goin'?"

He was all too glad to answer her. "I figure we've done all right; thought I'd make good on that line I fed Ma and take you out for lunch."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. We can plot out our next move while we eat."

"Ooh, Detective. You really know what to say to get a girl hot, don't ya?"

Whether he did or not, she sure knew what to say to make him laugh. "Just for that, you're payin'."

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As it turned out, proprietor Tomas Ruiz wouldn't take a dime of Lanie's money, not that Javier would have actually let her pay. Ruiz wouldn't accept Javier's, either: "No, no no. Call it a Hero's Welcome discount. Order, eat, and I don't want to see a penny from you, not a penny."

Javier appreciated the kindness. He just wished people would stop calling him that.

Lanie picked up on the vibe, toying with her straw wrapper on the tabletop. "Everyone around here really seems to love you."

_That's because they don't know the truth. Not the whole story_. Those were the thoughts he couldn't chance out loud. Instead, he cleared his throat. "Well, what can I say - carried a lotta groceries for some old ladies, kissed a couple babies, all that kinda stuff," he smirked.

"Uh-huh." She rolled her eyes, but he could tell it was her fondest kind. Probably the gorgeous smile on her face. "Have I said that this food was fantastic yet?"

A true fact - Lanie had ordered the Mediterranean chicken salad, Javier had ordered the pulled pork, and by the time they'd finished stealing off each other's plates, it was hard to tell who'd done the most damage. Tomas was good. "No, but I'll count that one. Glad you liked it."

"I do." Something about the change of tense caught Javier's attention. She directed her eyes onto his for that moment, a tiny smirk on her lips, and he knew she meant more than just the food.

Oh, yeah. They had definitely made some progress this morning.

He gave her a grin - was it just him, or did he do that more when she was around? - and stood up, sliding his chair back under the table. "C'mon." He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, unfolded it, and laid a five next to his water glass.

Lanie gave a look as she followed. "I thought he told you not to pay?"

"Didn't say anything about a tip. Loophole," Javier winked.

The M.E. just shook her head, and the two of them headed back toward the car. Even for a couple of born New Yorkers, it took a beat to adjust to the wallop of pollution and sunlight outside the café. His unmarked Crown Vic was parked around the corner, so they set off walking at an easy pace, close enough to each other that their elbows brushed every few steps. He made no effort to change that whatsoever.

"So," Lanie said once they were on the sidewalk. "Where are you on his financials?" For a second there, he had to fight the urge to look around and make sure their cover wasn't blown, but before he could be that obvious, Lanie added coolly, "Your dad's. Weren't you helpin' him with his shop?"

Javier glanced at her, and the message he caught on her face was pointed enough. Just as seamlessly as they were in step, he fell into the script. "Well, turns out he only _thought_ going over his records would be the best way to do it. But it's lot of paperwork, and it'd take a lot of work to get to - "

"Ohhh, because it's in the _attic_."

_Because it's confidential_, he translated mentally. _And I can't badge my way into it this time_. "Exactly. And, it's all kind of moot now that he found, y'know, that other investor. Which is great, especially 'cause he wasn't sure he'd even have the time." _Can't slow down. We don't have long to put this to bed before the window closes._

"Well, that's why he's got you."

He knew the code had changed. The 'he' meant to represtent his dad might as well have been the two victims. Not for the first time that day, Javier was reminded of the gravity of what he'd dragged them into. The consequences. He didn't pull himself out of it until her fingers brushed the side of his hand.

"Hey." She held on, and he closed his hand around hers. "He'll figure it out. And he's got help."

For as naturally as she'd said it, he didn't need to go looking for the subtext. It was obvious enough. Glancing at her with a soft smile that was usually hard to catch, he gave her hand a squeeze. "Yeah. I think he knows."

"Good." Subtly, she reciprocated, and then she took a deep breath; another quiet few moments with only the city noise around them. "Now what?"

Squinting in the daylight, Javier used his free hand to reach for his keys in his jacket pocket. "Well, now we - "

_Bang. Bang. Bang bang._

Shots were fired from somewhere across the street. One smashed through the back window of his car, the others embedding into concrete and ripping into store awnings. He barely had time to register before his arm darted around Lanie's waist and he dove - "Get _down_!" - crouching low on the curb side of the car. One hand dug back for his gun, the other braced on the ground, and one glance at Lanie showed her eyes taking over her face.

"What in the _hell_ - " _Bang. Bang bang. Bang_. She let out an involuntary shriek, looking pissed afterward that someone'd made her do it in the first place, and she grabbed Javier's wrist in a panic. "Don't go around the car."

"I have to."

"_Javier Esposito_, _do not go around this car_."

"I _got_ this, I'll stay low - don't you _move_." He was already unlocking his gun and checking the cartrigde, the way he'd done all those other times when there wasn't time to waste. He felt his heart hammering in the back of his throat, but he was trained better than to let that get the better of him. Shock killed more than curiosity.

"Are you even _positive_ they're shootin' at _us_?"

_Bang. Bang. _Another bullet took out Javier's second back window, and he shook the glass off.

"Oh, they're definitely shootin' at _us_."

He rolled out on his heel, popping out two shots at the source around the front of the car - _Bang, bang_ - before another one shattered one of the headlights. He ducked behind cover, breathing hard, jaw set, trying to comb what he'd seen for a recognizable face. The shooters' blockade across the street was solid; he could tell the _origin_ coordinate of the gunfire, but not who was doing the firing.

Lanie was taking her phone out. "I'm calling 911."

Instantly he grabbed her wrist, sterner than he'd ever been. "You do that, we're blown."

"Wh - "

_Bang. Bang. Bang._ Javier managed another three shots over the nose of the car, peeking out enough to aim with his arms laid flat on the hood, before sliding back to the concrete. "They'll run out of ammo. I can hold 'em off."

"And you consider this _okay_?"

He didn't answer, just popped out beyond the headlights to empty the rest of his cartridge. _Bang. Bang. Bang bang bang bang. _There was another in his pocket. Hitting his knees, sitting back on his heels, he reached for that with his gun hand and snapped off the rearview mirror with the other. He cut his hand in the process, but to hell with it; the car was already a junk heap. He laid the mirror on the ground and angled it so he could see across the street, a straight shot past the tire, then unloaded his Glock and reloaded it.

"Watch that," he instructed, bobbing his head at the mirror for emphasis, "Keep eyes on 'em."

Lanie's brain must've been grateful to have something to do besides paint worst-case scenarios; she started rattling off what she saw. "There's a loading truck, across the street…couple of guys getting on, three maybe, getting in the back…barely stopped, it's taking off, it's takin' off…"

He had the Glock ready just in time. Javier spun out from the Crown Vic and fired as many shots as he could at the truck's tires - _bang, bang. Bang, bang bang, bang_. But none of them hit, besides the two that embedded in the bumper. The truck squealed around the corner and out of sight, annihilating the speed limit, and it ended just as quick as it began.

Javier let out the lung's worth of air he didn't know he'd been holding, sliding to sit flat down against the front tire. He let his gun hand go limp, and wiped his forehead with the sleeve of that arm.

Lanie had a hand on her forehead, when he looked at her, and she looked back. It was actually a lot closer to gaping. "…Did you catch the plates?" she finally asked, with a ringing undertone of '_What _else_ are we gonna have to live through?'_

"…No," he panted, "No, I didn't get the plates. It didn't _have_ plates."

"Oh, perfect. Does that sound good to you? 'Cause _I_ like it."

"I get the point." _I was afraid you were shot, wiseass, a'right? They'd have to kill me 'fore I'd let that happen._ Getting his feet under him, Javier stood up, and he offered his hand down to Lanie. She grabbed on, and he pulled her up. She looked…shaken. "You okay?"

"Figure that one out…"

"Lanie."

"Yeah. I'm okay." Her eyes took him in. "You?"

Javier didn't answer. He looked around. Across the street; on the corner. Every few feet, there was another gawker, another passerby, another pedestrian. Some were just coming out of hiding. Some were talking so animatedly with each other you'd think the _president_ had just walked by… Most of them were already back as they were, and he knew instinctively right at that moment that not _one_ of them would be calling the cops either. It was the life down here. Hear no evil, see no evil.

Welcome home.

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**Weren't expecting THAT, were ya? ;D Yep, now it's getting into some action. Is Lanie going to go along blindly with this much longer? Well, you know Lanie… ;) And what's Javier got to hide? Guess you'll just have to stay tuned to find out. **

**Yet again: anyone out there, at least 14 or older, interested in joining a Castle-based, written RP forum? It's fun, and it's free… The information's all in my profile, the paragraph in bold, so check it out. **

**There is of COURSE more of this epic saga on the way, so stay with me, all five or six of you! XD And there is nothing, literally almost **_**nothing**_**, that makes me smile more than a review. I love knowing your thoughts on each chapter, so please consider leaving one. Thanks dudes. ^^ **

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	11. Drive, pt II

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**Whoa, anomalymona, that's some dedication right there! :D You are awesome for that...and Kenwoody? Oh, you KNOW it. ;D Sorry this one took a while, guys. Had to momentarily regroup. In other news: Am I seriously already at chapter ELEVEN on a story that's not separate oneshots? GASP! Oh well, I'm not gonna question it. ^^ Have at it, people. Oh: and get ready for some surprise returning characters. Don't say you haven't been warned… ;)**

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_Adrenaline still coursed through his body, his mind; the passage of hours had done nothing to stop it, no matter how hard he willed it away. There were some things he just couldn't will away anymore. Resolve had its talons in him now, and he shut himself in his study, going over details again and again and again. He would replace the veins in his eyes if he had to. This ended here. _

-Richard Castle, '_Deadly Storm_'

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"Did you spook 'em?"

Demarco paced back and forth, his form intermittent in a strip of shadow between windowlight. His profile faded in and out with the rhythm: darkened, illuminated. Darkened, illuminated. He likely wouldn't stop until he got an answer, if even then.

Hector set to work putting the black kerchiefs back into their hiding place under the closet floorboards. "F'you ask _me_, you know you coulda solved all this trouble f'you'd just had us aim for the gas tank." He made an explosion noise and mimed a mushroom cloud with his hands.

"I didn't _ask_ you." People were getting a little too free with questioning him lately. It was unsettling for him. "I said _answer_ me - is it done?"

"_Ay, tranquilo, si_. Yes. We fired on the car like you tol' us."

"He fight back?"

"Took cover behin' the car with the _chica_."

Demarco sneered to himself. _Ain't that just like the coward. Ladies first._

"Butchyeah, he fired back. A _lot_."

The sneer vanished, replaced with a scowl.

His cousin stood up, stomping the loose board back into place as he dusted his hands. "Anyway, we wiped down the truck like you said, boss. Left it 'cross town by the marina so's nobody'll connect it."

"An' what about the driver?"

Hector used an index finger to draw a line across his throat.

"Good." He turned another tight pivot in place before forcing himself to stop. If he was going to go around telling his boys that Esposito wasn't a concern, then he couldn't stress it either. The man was an _insect_. A busybody with a Superman complex. He'd have done better getting blown to shreds by Jihad. But no, just couldn't make it easy - he was a _cop_ now. A _suit_. It was harder to exterminate the turncoat when the rest of the suits had eyes on him.

So fine. For Demarco's buisiness, that just opened the door to get creative.

"He won't move now," he told Hector, sounding much more positive of it when the words were out loud. "He knows a warnin' shot when he sees it. We're clear." He straightened up, shrugging his shoulders straight, flipping his collar forward.

His cousin was the one who hesitated. "…But…boss, I seriously don' think - "

In the flash of a half-second, Demarco moved face-to-face, his switchblade at Hector's throat, pressing his wrist hard against the wall. He knew the murder in his eyes sold well enough that Hector was too afraid to act afraid.

"_I said, we are clear_. Am I clear to _you_? 'Cause I gotta tell you Money, I'm a little fed up with your _crap_ right now, a'right? Ronnie. Vreeland. Is going. To die. Before. He talks. _Comprende_? I said_ do I make myself clear_?"

"Y-y-yeah boss, a'course you do. I gotchu, man, you don't worry 'bout nothin', okay? I'll even take care'a Jav if you want. Tie that all up for you."

Glaring warily, Demarco slowly stood down, slipping the concealed blade back into his belt. He didn't look back as he walked away, not even to answer, letting himself be swallowed by the shadows. "No. It comes to that, that privilege goes to _me_."

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Javier kept a tight grip on the wheel, the ashy skin at his knuckles going white. On his _right_ hand, at least. His left lay on his knee, wrapped in gauze he kept in the glove box to try and suffocate the bleeding from his palm, and he only used it when he had to for a turn.

If anyone living in the area thought it was strange to see the gold Crown Victoria with its back windows busted out, a couple of shells emptied into its side, they wouldn't bring it up. That kind of damage was commonplace, anyway. The most ironic part was that Javier couldn't even get it fixed at the neighborhood body shop, the very place he'd worked at all through high school. His pop was the manager there, and he didn't need the questions right now.

They were halfway home before he said a word. Even then, he wasn't the first to speak. Lanie was.

"…You still aren't a damn bit put-off on this, are you."

She hadn't even phrased it as a question, he noted. Javier nodded to himself, if only mentally. Lanie was an intelligent woman; it was part of why he was attracted to her. She was bound to get there sooner rather than later.

"That back there was nothin' to you," she continued, her tone diagnostic. "You're goin' after this just as hard, if not harder, aren't you."

"It was not nothing," he protested. It was easier than answering the question, though not by much. At all. "Of course it was a big deal. I don't like the idea of anyone firin' on you. I wouldn't take that lightly, Lanie." Understatement upon understatement. Javier made himself inhale deeply. "But it's over now. You're okay, I'm okay."

"How is it over?" Lanie gestured with both hands at the windshield, the world in general. "You just said it yourself, you're not givin' up on this."

"Did I say those _exact_ words? No…"

"Javier Esposito, don't you play those symantecs on me. Don't think I don't know you. If I didn't, I wouldn't be sleeping with you, I wouldn't know your gaming password '_in case of emergency_' and I sure as hell wouldn't be in this car now that it's holier than the Vatican. I know you're not givin' up on this case, because I know that tone. It wouldn't be like you." She paused a beat, gaze waiting for his comfirmation. "Tell me I'm wrong."

Javier wasn't entirely sure if she was challenging or pleading. To her credit, Lanie didn't sound angry, and she didn't even sound particularly shaken. Maybe she should've. Maybe it was a bad sign that she was calm. Or maybe she was just good. He exhaled slowly, mouth pressed into a line before he spoke, and he nodded just once. "You're right."

"I told you. You're still plannin' on goin' after Demarco, even after all this."

One shoulder twitched, not even a shrug. "I've been in gunfights before."

"Don't remind me."

"I can't let him win this just because he's tryin' to scare me off, Lanie. That's what he wants." His right hand gripped the steering wheel tighter, unconsciously. "I know him. This is a classic warning shot. If he wanted to get rid of us both, he could've, easily. Any one of 'em coulda shot out the gas tank, and that woulda been it. But they didn't, which means it's all just a spook tactic."

"Call me crazy, but flying bullets do tend to spook most people just a little."

_Look, it's personal now_, Javier wanted to say. It took everything in his reserve of self-control to keep it back. _It's been personal for a long time, but you were shot at today. You. Because of me, because of _my _ghosts. That's not okay. I can't let that go. I won't allow that again…not you. _But the words stayed in. Instead, he told her, "Look. We expected to hit a little resistance in this."

Lanie scoffed. "I'm sorry, a _little_ resistance? You really _must_ be hardened."

"I told you I didn't want you in on this," he said calmly. "I told you it'd be safer - "

"Oh, what?"

" - for you to just hang back at the house and stay out of it."

"Javier - "

"If you're spooked, I won't blame you. If you want out - "

"Javier? _Stop_."

He halted his sentence and cast her a glance as he nursed the car through an intersection. Opening her mouth without sound and pointing out the window for a moment, Lanie sighed and sank back against her seat.

"Well I meant stop the _car_; that was a red light, but sure." She rubbed three fingers across her forehead, bringing them to massage a circle over her temple. He didn't even blink at the traffic violation; there were some obvious bigger fish to fty. He simply waited for her to speak again. "…Do you really think I would be _any_ better off, sitting in your mother's kitchen, wondering if that nice Dr. Taggart's next customer is gonna be _you_? You. Have. No. Backup. Now I may not be able to carry a gun, but I definitely feel at least a _little_ better knowin' I can make sure you don't come home wearin' a few of those bullets."

God, listen to her. Javier felt something in his chest tighten, and suddenly the events of half an hour ago played through his mind again. All skewed images, false edits, in which Lanie tried some heroics or other and he ended up holding her head, her breathing shallow, her blood on the sidewalk. He made himself remember that he was at the wheel of a car, so shaking his head to erase the image was probably not the soundest idea. _I don't like the sound of you 'making sure,'_ he thought. _Don't ever make sure_.

He cleared his throat instead, subtly. "Got it backwards, anyway."

Lanie blinked at him, now wearing a familiar face of indignance. "Got _what_ backward?"

"You don't watch out for _me_, I watch out for _you_."

It was simple enough. It was supposed to be simple enough. But from Lanie, he suddenly sensed a defiance radiating that was stronger than any he'd seen so far, and he allowed for another glance at her before reluctantly putting his eyes back on the road. This was a rolling seethe, and he felt it coming.

She delivered. "You know, I get it," Lanie began, and scarily enough, he believed her, whatever she meant. "…Here you are, a man with more women in his life than men to take care of them, and maybe this neighborhood isn't exactly the Ritz-Carlton. Yeah, I get how maybe you coulda gotten like this. But I'm startin' to get the feeling that when your sisters got old enough to back you off, you never did, did you. 'Cause let me tell you something. You need to snap on out of it now. I am _not_ some woman that Big Tough You has got to shelter."

"I kn - "

"I'm not done. Now we have been friends for a _long_ time. And when you and I agreed to be exclusive, that made me your girlfriend. As your friend and as your girlfriend, I have the right to worry about you, watch out for you or smack you upside that thick head whenever the hell I want to. You should have known about me that I carry my own in relationships, thank you. And if you can't get that, then I don't think this is gonna work much longer. Do you understand me?"

Driving or not, Javier sat there more than partially stunned, though he knew he should have seen it all coming. At least close, if not word-for-word. He stared ahead for a long few moments, then finally said, simply enough, "Okay."

"Okay _what_?" Lanie prodded.

"Okay. You're right." She usually was, he noted. Something else he might want to be used to. "You're more than capable. I can't stop you."

"No. you can't."

"And, I love you too much to let you think I don't respect that."

He could tell that threw her. Obviously, she hadn't expected him to cooperate so freely. She was silent for a moment, but only that, and then she nodded decisively. "Good."

That was when he caught her in the trap he'd laid. "But that means I get to worry about you too. So I do need to ask, and I'm gonna ask you again since you didn't answer me. Are you still in this? Or are you out? Because if you're out, I wouldn't - "

"I'm in. Don't ask again."

Something about _that_, of all things, made him smile. "Okay." And that would be the last word either spoke on the subject. A little voice in his head still nagged him about the dangers, but Javier ignored it steadfastly. _She's got me. I can make sure nothin' happens to her._ Respect for her or not, it was an instinct he'd never lose. He just kept telling himself that.

They rode quiet for the next handful of minutes, and it wasn't until they were a block from the house that Lanie spoke again. Apparently, it was her turn to pull the surprises.

"But I want you to reconsider callin' someone. One of the others. I want you to call Ryan, or Kate, or someone who can even out that four-to-one firepower ratio."

How foolish of him to assume he'd gotten off that easy. Taking a slow left, Javier sighed. "No."

"You were just _shot_ at, Javier. I mean it."

"So do I. We talked about this."

The car shuddered over gravel as he nosed the car into his parents' driveway. Metaphorically, he was putting his foot down and keeping it there; in reality, he pumped the brake to a slow stop, and made a mental note on the side to move the car before his pop left in the morning. He wouldn't get them involved. There was nothing left to say about that.

The past was creeping too close for comfort as it was.

Lanie talked over the engine fade and boots on gravel as he got out. "Don't you be stupid, Javier. I don't see a cape and tights. You're not Superman. And you're not a martyr, either."

No, he wasn't. Because he hadn't died yet. He'd burn that bridge when he came to it. "This is _my_ thing. I get the say on this one," he said firmly, shutting the driver's side door as she opened the passenger's. "I don't want them on it. You already know why. It's too much."

"I - "

"_Dios, qué tomó los dos de ustedes mucho tiempo?_ _There_ you are! You were supposed to be back after lunch."

The voice came from the stoop, from Rosa, as the woman half-leaned through the screen door, her Bluetooth set hooked around her neck. Casting a finishing glance back at Lanie, Javier buried the topic and strayed toward his sister. That was that.

"I didn't say after lunch, I said before dinner. Anyway, we're here. C'mon, let's get inside."

He felt Lanie's dissatisfied stare singe a hole right through his back, but he chose to pretend that he didn't. Just one more minor wound to go under lock and key with the others.

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The thing about the Espositos, Lanie noted, was that extended visits home meant regular check-ins in person. All things considered, she didn't blame Nina one bit for wanting regular physical proof that her world was still turning.

The other thing was that no one really did much. Besides cooking, reminiscing and talking, the sole activity when these folks got together seemed just that. To be together. When she'd first arrived here, exactly a day ago, Lanie had liked that. And she still did, but in a bittersweet way: at this moment, she would've given almost anything for some distraction. Typical for being shot at, she supposed.

She tried turning her attention to Javier - after all, he was supposed to be her buffer here - but that only made her mind run faster. He was _causing_ that problem. Being stubborn yet again. _Look at them…look at you,_ she thought, watching from across the family room as Maria hugged her brother's neck from behind the sofa. They smiled and laughed, and Lanie thought. They launched a conversation, and Lanie thought. _You can handle the risk, sure, but can they? They need you, don't you see that? I know you're not blind…_

The family reeled her in. Lanie smiled, went along, and thought. They told anecdotes and asked questions; Lanie smiled and answered and thought. She thought about what the team would say if they knew any of this. She thought about calling them herself, before shooting down the idea for her relationship's sake, not to mention that Demarco would know about it. She thought of the irony there: getting him killed for trying to save his ass from himself. Very quickly, she wished she could turn off the thinking all together.

At least, she did until it got her somewhere.

When the time came for dinner, Lanie's offer to treat was happily, if reluctantly accepted.

"Oh, honey, are you sure? It wouldn't be any trouble to cook something up," Nina profused.

"Positive," Lanie told them. "You guys took care of us last night; it's my turn to treat. I'll go on and call in the order. Won't be a minute."

Stepping toward the porch, Lanie received only a thankful nod from her boyfriend, and she was grateful his detective senses weren't tingling. It wasn't until the front door was shut behind her that she pulled out her phone, scrolling not to any takeout restaurant, but to a number she'd never used before. An 'emergency contact.' Well, that was how she qualified this. The other line rang only and exactly twice.

"…Hi, is this Carol? Lanie Parish with the 12th precinct, Homicide."

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**Cliffhanger! XD As always, there's Castle RPG info in my profile. Reviews would be adored, specific ones specifically. **

**More to come, though I'm (obviously) out of prewritten parts, so it might be slow. **

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